


into the dark and wonderful unknown

by lazyfish



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Romantic Comedy, Background Willjemma, F/M, Past Character Death, background StaticQuake, background fitzsimmons, background mackelena
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2020-10-05 05:36:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20483735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyfish/pseuds/lazyfish
Summary: Bobbi Morse loses her job and her boyfriend in the span of a week - but she wins an inn. The town of Quinshire, England and her dilapidated bed and breakfast aren't what Bobbi expects, but there's something beautiful about diving headfirst into the unknown.A Falling Inn Love AU. Beta'd by Gort.





	1. Chapter 1

The Manhattan skyscraper, like most other skyscrapers, was almost entirely made of glass. The aesthetic of it was nice, and the view was even nicer, but on July afternoons, it made the place feel more like a sauna than an office. Or maybe that was her nerves, but Bobbi wasn’t quite ready to admit she was nervous about her proposal. She knew it was a good one - she had spent hours of overtime slaving over every detail, making it impossible for investors to resist - but Reality Architecture had a habit of pushing back against her more eco-friendly proposals. Something about corporations not caring about the environment as long as they made money. Bobbi’s arguments about corporations being equally interested in having a good public image fell on deaf ears. Most of what she did fell on deaf ears, actually, but she tried not to dwell on that too much. She was kickass, and someday her bosses would see it.

Right now, if they came into the conference room, all they’d see was Bobbi spinning in her office chair. Her proposal meeting had been set for nine o’clock, but she was sure there was a good reason everyone was an hour and a half late. She spent her time scrolling through her spam email -  _ Win an Inn!!!!! _ , one title proclaimed, five exclamation points and all - and ignoring how badly she needed to use the bathroom. The quadruple-shot latte had been a mistake.

The door opened, and Bobbi whipped around, pasting a bright smile on her face. “Running a little behind schedule, huh?” she asked, trying not to let her irritation with the tardiness creep into her voice. 

Her supervisor, Ian, flashed her a smile that made him look like even more of a douche than his slicked-back hair did. “Didn’t you check Slack, babe?” Bobbi bristled at the pet name. She wasn’t even her boyfriend’s babe, let alone _Ian’s_. “Your proposal meeting got bumped. Grant’s got this slick new idea for how to heat office spaces with less power, and you know his father’s one of our potential investors.”

Bobbi swallowed down her initial angry retort. She didn’t give a fuck about Grant or his too-rich father. Her proposal meeting had already been rescheduled once, and if it could get bumped over something Grant had slapped together in the last two hours, it could get bumped for anything. “I didn’t see anything on Slack.” She had checked it right before her meeting was supposed to start, just in case, but there hadn’t been anything. Had there? She itched to double-check herself, but there was no way in hell she’d do it in front of Ian. 

She could never show weakness in front of the boys she worked with, Bobbi knew that much. Her face was beginning to heat unpleasantly and she took a deep breath, willing herself not to cry until she was back in the safety of her cubicle. She didn’t want the thousand questions about it being ‘that time of the month’. The idiots she worked with didn’t seem to comprehend a woman could cry even when she wasn’t on her period, especially when a project proposal she had worked hard on was getting bounced around like a ping pong ball.

Bobbi scooped up the informational packets she had laid on the table for the investors, making sure she had all ten of them before departing the conference room. Ian made another stupid comment before she walked out the door, but Bobbi chose not to listen to it. It wasn’t an apology, and that was all she wanted to hear out of his mouth for the rest of the day.

\---

“I just don’t get it!” Bobbi exclaimed for what was probably the fifth time in the same number of minutes. Her boyfriend glanced up from his cell phone for just a moment, making a sympathetic noise, before he was sucked back into it. Bobbi bit back a sigh. She knew Thomas was busy - being an investment banker wasn’t an easy job, and it took a lot of time - but sometimes she felt like she was invisible to him. Bobbi twirled a bite of pasta around her fork, filling the silence by eating.

Thomas finished the e-mail he was writing and gave her a winning smile. Bobbi managed to smile back at him. “I don’t get it either. They obviously don’t recognize greatness when they see it.” And there was the reason she stayed with Thomas despite his hectic schedule and general attitude towards life. He was sweet, when he wanted to be, and Bobbi needed a little sweetness in the dog-eat-dog world that was the Manhattan business scene. She’d go crazy if she didn’t have Thomas to turn to.

Bobbi had always regretted not cultivating more friendships when she first moved to Manhattan, but there just wasn’t enough  _ time _ for relationships. She had work to do. Bobbi was on friendly terms with some of the women she went to cycling class with, but Thomas was the only one who cared enough to listen to her moan about the same problem basically every week. He knew how stubborn she could be - which was why their next topic of conversation was going to be absolutely no surprise to him.

“I was thinking about the closet again,” she began, giving Thomas the time to insert his obligatory scoff before she continued. “What if I nixed the shoe organizer idea and gave you more room for your hanging stuff? I know you’ve been looking into buying another set of suits.” Thomas had nice wool suits in all the standard colors - navy, charcoal, and black - but he had been contemplating getting a statement suit for a long time. He was convinced a maroon suit would make him stand out in a crowd, and though Bobbi wasn’t quite sure that was true, she wasn’t going to be the one to crush his dreams. Especially not if it made him agree to actually take a small corner of her closet for his own. After two years of dating, Bobbi didn’t think it was too much to ask. She thought  _ she _ had commitment issues, but she had nothing on Thomas and his unwillingness to leave so much as a toothbrush at her place.

“Bobbi, darling,” Thomas said with a sigh. “Closets aren’t sexy.”

“They can be,” she muttered, taking another bite of pasta. She wasn’t sure what the sexiness of closets had to do with their conversation, but Bobbi had had more than one fun time in a closet. That had been in college, but if Thomas needed sex in a closet to agree to what she wanted from him, sex in a closet was what he’d get.

“What I mean is that we’re fun.” Thomas reached for her hand. “We’re having a great time the way we are. We don’t need to fix things that aren’t broken.”

Bobbi was going to make a retort, but before she could, Thomas’s phone chimed. He withdrew his hand from hers so he could respond to whatever text he had received, and she sighed. This was why she had to keep circling back to the topic - they never actually got to finish most conversations these days. It had been better, but Thomas… Bobbi scolded herself for the uncharitable thought she was about to have. Thomas’s career was taking off, and she was happy to support him through that. Good girlfriends supported their boyfriends, and even if Bobbi’s career wasn’t going the way she wanted to, her relationship could. She just had to make it work.

Bobbi was good at making things work. She was the  _ best _ at making things work, and she wasn’t going to let a lack of wool suits in her closet stop her.

\---

There was a crowd of people around the entrance to Reality Architecture’s building when Bobbi approached the next Monday morning, which instantly set off alarm bells. New Yorkers didn’t like to loiter if they could help it, and a dozen people all loitering outside the same building didn’t bode well. As she got closer to the doors, she saw Ian sliding his badge across the card reader. From the resigned huff he gave when it denied him access, that wasn’t the first time he had tried.

“What’s going on?” Bobbi asked, pulling out her own badge so she could try entering the building for herself. Her card was also denied (with an annoyed beep, like the machine couldn’t believe she had dared to try at all), and Bobbi sighed, checking her watch. She needed to work overtime this week so she could take off early on Friday; there was a tree planting upstate she wanted to get to. Starting work late on Monday didn’t bode well for her getting enough hours in time.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket - and so did Ian’s, and so did everyone else’s in the crowd. A knot of dread situated itself just under Bobbi’s sternum as she pulled out her phone. She had a feeling about what she was going to read before she even read it, but it still felt like being hit by a ton of bricks.  _ We regret to inform you Reality Architecture has filed for bankruptcy. Your employment with the company has been terminated, effective immediately.  _ There was more legal jargon to ensure no one could sue for wrongful termination - Bobbi wasn’t sure who would bother trying, considering a bankrupt company couldn’t give much in the way of settlement - but the facts remained the same. She was out of a job… and so was everyone else she worked with.

\---

If Bobbi had to sit through one more phone interview where she was asked the same five boring questions, she was going to pull her hair out. Reality Architecture had employed over a hundred people, and she had a feeling all of her former colleagues were applying to the same jobs she was. And considering they were all men who fit the bill of what a project manager was supposed to look like (white guys with dark hair who were attractive in a generic, vanilla sort of way), Bobbi had a feeling her chances weren’t that good.

At least she had another date with Thomas tonight. He had been the first one she called when she got home after being laid off, and he had been appropriately sympathetic… up until he had gotten a call from a client, and then forgotten to call her back. Bobbi wasn’t going to dwell on that part, though; he was going to take her to a new place downtown that used only locally-sourced ingredients, and Bobbi was beyond excited to try the food. She was also beyond excited to make a new proposal to Thomas: they should move in together.

It seemed a little out of the blue, Bobbi knew, but it made sense. He lived in a two-bedroom but never seemed to have any guests, and splitting rent would help stretch her savings while she found a new job. Luckily for Bobbi she didn’t indulge much in anything, so her savings were robust enough she could afford to wait for a job she actually wanted. There had to be a green design architecture firm looking for a project manager somewhere in the city, right?

She waited outside her apartment building, where Thomas had promised to pick her up so she didn’t have to take the subway downtown. She waited… and waited… and waited. It was a bit like being stood up for her project proposal, except she  _ knew _ Thomas made punctuality his priority, and he definitely hadn’t messaged her on Slack (or, more likely, iMessage) to let her know he was going to be late.

Only after an hour of waiting did Bobbi receive anything approximating an apology.  _ Got held up at a meeting. Rain check? xoxo _

Bobbi took a deep breath so she wouldn’t throw her phone down on the concrete - she couldn’t afford a new one right now. Instead she channelled her anger into a single, pointed text message.  _ No rain check. I’m done. _

And she was. She couldn’t keep living like this - no job, with a boyfriend who didn’t seem to care what she wanted or even that she existed. He hadn’t even bothered to call about his late meeting. As soon as he read her text about being done, though, Bobbi’s lock screen was lit up with a call waiting. She sent Thomas to voicemail, sighing heavily. Apparently she was only important enough to call when she was walking away.

\---

The next five days were spent in a haze of ice cream, Netflix, and Two Buck Chuck. Thomas had stopped calling after the first day, which proved to Bobbi even more she had made the right choice in dumping him. Someone who only cared about their girlfriend of two years for twenty-four hours after a breakup wasn’t worth holding onto. She stabbed her spoon into her all-but-empty carton of Rocky Road with a sigh. Netflix was supposed to help her through her breakup, but even romcoms couldn’t make her feel better. All they did was make her feel pathetic for not being able to find a handsome man to sweep her off her feet and kiss her in the rain. And since Thomas had been her only friend, she didn’t even have anyone to cry to.

It was the time of night most people considered morning, and for all her sorrows, Bobbi couldn’t sleep. She shut off Netflix with a defeated sigh, picking up her phone to see if anything interesting was happening in the world. Maybe some celebrity couple was getting divorced. That wouldn’t make her feel better, exactly, but at least she wouldn’t be alone in breakup land.

No such luck.

She resorted to scrolling back through her old emails for snippets of workplace gossip when she saw it again:  _ Win an Inn!!!!! _ Bobbi clicked on the email on a whim, and her jaw nearly dropped at the attached image. The place was beautiful. It was a large, cozy-looking house painted a robin’s egg blue, with large white windows and a lush green front lawn. There were towering trees on either side of the house, covering it in dappled light that made it look like a dream.

Maybe it was the wine buzz, the sugar rush, the exhaustion, or a combination of the three, but something possessed Bobbi to actually click the ‘enter here’ button.

_ Submit a 500-word essay detailing why you deserve to the proud owner of the Mockingbird Bed and Breakfast, located in beautiful Quinshire, England. _

It was just like writing a cover letter, except instead of talking about her passion for eco-friendly building she had to talk about her passion for… running a bed and breakfast? It would involve a little bit of stretching the truth, but Bobbi had always wanted to own a home - New York City prices had kept her from that dream. She grabbed her laptop from her bedroom and set it on the coffee table. She poured herself another glass of wine and took a healthy drink before beginning to compose her essay.

_ I grew up without a backyard. I begged my parents to move so we could have one, but they always thought city smarts were more important than a place to run and play. _

Oh, this was good. Bobbi finished her glass of wine in between spurts of writing and poured herself another as she rambled about her dream home, and how all of her dreams lately had been crushed. That last part was definitely the wine talking, but maybe whoever was judging these essays would take pity on her and give her the win just because she deserved something in her life to go right.

The sun was peeking out over the horizon by the time she submitted her essay and paid the entrance fee, and Bobbi groaned as she flopped back onto the sofa. She needed Advil and some sleep. She was too lazy to grab the Advil, so sleeping off the wine was her only option.

Four hours later she was woken up by a tinny, recorded voice repeating itself. “You’re a winner! You’re a winner! You’re a -!” Bobbi slammed the mute button with a whine. Her memories after the third romcom of the night before were a little hazy, and she didn’t have time for scams trying to tell her she had won a trip to the Bahamas or something.

Bobbi blinked at the screen, trying to find the exit button, when the credit card in her hand and the words staring up at her registered in her brain. 

_ Congratulations, you’ve won an inn! _

\---

Bobbi had switched buses no less than three times since getting on one at Heathrow, and she was finally within spitting distance of Quinshire. That was what the bus driver who had let her off had said before making a sickeningly tight U-turn and screeching off in the other direction. 

The asphalt of the road she was standing beside was cracked in most places, but it still managed to be somewhat charming, with blooming wildflowers nestled in the roots of trees older than Bobbi was. She was basically in the middle of the woods, but she had been assured Quinshire proper was just a little ways down, and she’d make it there before sunset with plenty of time to spare. Bobbi honestly wasn’t sure what time it was - her phone’s battery had died on the bus and the outlets onboard hadn’t been working - so she figured it was better to hustle and arrive early than to get stuck roadside after dark with no phone in a country she didn’t know.

The beginning of the hike was idyllic, even if she did have to lug her huge suitcase behind her. It gave her the sort of connection to nature Bobbi had been seeking her whole life, the reason she did what she did. The world was beautiful, and it was her job to protect it. And sure, maybe it was a little crazy that she had taken the first plane to Heathrow after learning she had won an inn in the middle of nowhere, England, but it was her chance to see the world beyond New York City.

About ten minutes into her walk, Bobbi heard a twig snap behind her. Naturally, her first thought was she was doomed to die and no one would ever find her body on the road to Quinshire. Her second thought was she should actually turn around and see what was going on instead of assuming she was about to be murdered.

When she did turn, Bobbi was met with the most gorgeous pair of eyes she had ever seen.

“Hi, puppy,” she cooed, immediately kneeling down so the dog (who, she presumed, was the one who snapped the twig) would be less intimidated by her. “Who do you belong to?” Maybe there was a house someplace back in the woods? Or maybe he belonged to a Quinshire local and had gotten a little lost? Bobbi didn’t see a collar around his neck, but maybe it had fallen off. This would be her first good deed while in England: finding out if the dog was a stray. 

First she had to catch him, which was easier said than done. Every time Bobbi walked towards him, the dog would sprint away, and then come trotting back when Bobbi stopped her advance. Over and over and over they danced the dance, until Bobbi was sweaty and panting harder than the dog.

She didn’t have long to catch her breath, though, because a car horn sounded. Bobbi turned just in time to see someone collide with her suitcase, which had rolled into the road while she had been chasing the dog - the dog, which was now nowhere in sight. Great. Now her good deed was ruined  _ and _ she’d probably pissed off a stranger.

The man who had run into her suitcase was stepping out of his truck, and he looked more amused than mad. His hair was rumpled in a way the guys in New York tried to imitate with a thousand different hair products, and he was wearing a white tank top that showed off a pair of distractingly beautiful arms. Bobbi cleared her throat, hoping it would distract him from the obvious once-over she had just given him.

“Do you normally leave your luggage unattended? That’s not allowed in airports anymore, you know.” His voice was lightly accented, like every other voice since she stepped off the airplane had been. Bobbi didn’t know enough about British regional dialects to know where he was from - nor did she really care about where this random stranger was from if he wasn’t going to sue her for damages.

“I know,” Bobbi huffed, checking both ways before jogging across the road to reclaim her now-dented suitcase. Luckily nothing had fallen out. She didn’t think she could handle a stranger touching her unmentionables on top of the rest of the stress of the day. “I was trying to catch the dog.”

“The dog,” the man repeated.

“He ran away,” Bobbi sniffed, “probably because your honking scared him.”

“The suitcase in the middle of the road scared  _ me _ ,” the man retorted, crossing his arms. The new position made his biceps even more distracting, but Bobbi’s resolve to look away from them just left her falling into the depths of his hazel eyes. Why couldn’t roadside strangers all be unattractive and undistracting? “Why are you even out here, anyways? Nearest town’s a hike.”

“I’m just taking the scenic route,” Bobbi said, mirroring the man’s position. “Stop and smell the roses every once in a while.” She hadn’t had time to back in New York.

“The scenic route’s another two kilometers at least, love. Let me give you a ride.”

“I don’t get in the car with strangers,” Bobbi answered, taking a step away. The man hadn’t tried to advance on her, but there was no way to tell how he’d react to being denied - Bobbi couldn’t imagine it happened often with a face like his. She was suddenly thankful she had invested so much in self-defense classes when she lived in the city.

“Your loss.” The man shrugged. “Try to keep your luggage out of the road, will you? The next person might not be so kind.” He swung himself back into his truck before Bobbi could answer, and she watched in a huff as he sped away. As soon as the truck had rounded the nearest bend, the dog stuck his head out from the underbrush, tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. 

Bobbi sighed. “Traitor.”

\---

She never should have tried to walk that far. The dog had abandoned her halfway down the road, and walking alone was miserable. By the time Bobbi got into the town proper her feet were absolutely killing her thanks to her maybe-impractical heels, and she’d never been happier to see a cafe in her life. The awning was striped a cheery yellow-and-white, and in neat black lettering was its name:  _ Miel _ . Bobbi didn’t need her high school Spanish class to know what the name meant - there were honey pots painted in the windows, and little honey bee decorations strung along the outside.

When she stepped into the cafe, a bell chimed happily to announce her presence. It seemed like the bell was unneeded, though. The cafe was small, with only a handful of tables. Each one of them was occupied, and every single person turned to look at Bobbi when she entered. She was suddenly aware of how practically half her hair had managed to escape her French braid, and how sweaty she was.

“You must be the American!” A woman with long, dark hair and sparkling brown eyes appeared from behind the counter, carrying a bowl of what looked like yogurt with her. Her accent was out of place amidst the English variants, and Bobbi blinked her surprise, still a bit too overwhelmed by all the people looking at her to formulate a coherent response before the bowl of yogurt was pressed into her hands.

“Uh, yeah, I’m from New York. What is this?” She winced internally, kicking herself for how ungrateful her question sounded. The woman just smiled winningly in response.

“It’s a yogurt parfait with strawberries and honey streusel. It’s my husband Mack’s specialty. He’s American, too, he’ll be happy to know he’s not alone anymore.” The woman steered Bobbi to a table whose occupants had magically disappeared (or, more likely, relocated) and sat her down. “I’m Elena, Miel’s owner. Co-owner, actually. We heard another American was coming but we didn’t believe Hunter when he said so.”

Bobbi furrowed her brow, unsure of who this Hunter person was or why her coming was so shocking. Apart from the fact Quinshire was so small, of course; Bobbi could swear half the place’s occupants were in the cafe at that moment.

“I’m the new owner of the Mockingbird Bed and Breakfast,” Bobbi offered, taking a spoonful of the parfait she had been given. “Holy shit, this is good!” she exclaimed before she even managed to swallow it. After nearly a full day of airplane food she was sure just about anything would taste like heaven, but this took it to new heights.

“I’ll be sure to pass on your compliment.” Elena smiled. “You’d best get going if you want to make it to the Mockingbird before dark. It’s another kilometer or so away.” Bobbi groaned. Her poor feet! “Take a left at the end of Main, a right at Shield, and then it’s on your right.” Elena patted Bobbi’s hand comfortingly and made to move back behind the counter.

“Wait! How much do I owe you for this?” Bobbi had absolutely devoured the yogurt, and had only just realized she hadn’t paid Elena for it.

“On the house. Welcome to Quinshire.” Elena disappeared before Bobbi could protest, and she mentally vowed to slip some extra cash in the tip jar once she had time to unpack herself and actually find her wallet. 

She finished the last of her yogurt, savoring the air conditioning of the cafe and the opportunity to take a load off her aching feet. There reached a point where Bobbi couldn’t justify taking up a table anymore, not being a paying customer and all, and she hauled herself to her feet. She had a bed and breakfast to get to.

\---

If the walk to Miel had seemed long, the walk to the Mockingbird Bed and Breakfast was an eternity. Bobbi thought Elena had probably been underestimating when she said the B&B was a kilometer away; she had probably walked closer to a mile, maybe even a mile and a half. Doing that in heels, pulling a suitcase, was decidedly not fun. Every time she got tired, though, Bobbi reminded herself of what awaited her at the end of the walk. Her own place, something she could turn into her dream home from her childhood. This was her one and only chance to get it right. 

The sign was the first thing she saw. The paint was the same robin’s egg blue the manor had been in the photograph, albeit a little faded. There was a mailbox perched on a slightly-crooked post nestled beneath the Mockingbird’s sign, and when Bobbi opened it, there was an envelope with her name on it. Inside the envelope was the deed to the inn, a short letter from the previous owner (which read kind of like a form letter, but who cared!?) and the same photo that had been the header for the Win an Inn competition. Bobbi allowed herself ten more seconds of staring at the photo - like she hadn’t been doing just that the entire plane ride here - before she turned up the gravel drive that would lead her to her inn.

The trees on either side of the drive were a little overgrown, but that didn’t mean much to Bobbi. Just a couple hours with the pruning shears and it’d be as good as new! She kept that positive energy in mind… right until she rounded the bend and saw the actual inn.

The blue paint had chipped away to reveal a sickly grey color. The lawn was more brown than green, and weeds choked over half of it anyways. The trees that had offered such beautiful lighting were either overgrown or half-dead - or in some cases, both. Ivy crawled up the sides of the inn, and not in the cutesy, planned way either. In short: Mockingbird was a mess.

Bobbi left her suitcase on the drive and mounted the wooden steps of the porch. It held under her weight, but that was just about all that could be said for the little porch. The boards were warped and probably rotting, and the railing was snapped clean in two, leaving jagged edges just begging for someone to hurt themselves on. When she went to open the front door, it fell straight off its hinges.

Bobbi made her way through the entire house, hoping to find something redeemable, but every room seemed to be worse than the last. The only room that was somewhat livable was one of the guest rooms on the south side. She was going to have to sleep there tonight, Bobbi thought as she paced back through the house. She hadn’t expected the inn to be in perfect shape, but it had never occurred to her the competition could’ve been a scam to get the deed into different hands and pad the pockets of the previous owner while they did it.

She exited the house again, holding the picture up in front of the inn so she could imagine what it would look like when she was done with it. It was going to be hard work, but hey - the place was only as messed up as she was.


	2. Chapter 2

Bobbi woke up to sunlight streaming in through a broken window and something warm and wet on her face. 

Wait a minute -

“Gross!” she yelped, pushing the dog off her. Apparently he had managed to find his way back to her and into the inn - probably, Bobbi guessed, through the window. She was lucky it was the middle of summer (and the middle of nowhere) otherwise there would have been no way for her to sleep comfortably in this place.

“If you’re going to stay, we’re taking you to a vet,” Bobbi said, shoving the dog off her bed and then clambering out after him. It seemed like a bad idea to adopt a dog without knowing any of his medical history. He probably had fleas, or worms, or both. But he was too stinking cute, with his big brown eyes and floppy ears and brindled fur. Or at least Bobbi hoped it was brindle. It was also possible he was just dirty as hell, and the dirt had accumulated unevenly.

New item on the to-do list: bathe the dog.

If she was going to keep him, Bobbi needed a better name than ‘the dog’.

_ New _ new item on the to-do list: give the dog a name.

“We could call you… England?” The dog looked unimpressed with Bobbi’s uncreative name.

A shrill bell sound filled the bedroom, and Bobbi startled. Of all the things in the inn to still be in working condition, it had to be the doorbell?

The dog was already barrelling towards the front door, and Bobbi grabbed her robe to pull around her shoulders before following him. She looked like death warmed over - jet lag was catching up to her and she hadn’t even gotten to change out of her pajamas - but if someone was coming to pay her a visit, it seemed rude not to at least answer the door. She could suggest they come back at a different time when she did not look like a banshee.

When Bobbi opened the front door, the knob came off in her hand.

She needed to start writing down her to-do list.

Bobbi kept her grip on the knob even as an unfamiliar woman enveloped her in a hug. Bobbi sneezed at the strong floral perfume the strange woman was wearing, taking a step back to get away from the cloying scent of roses.

“Hello, darling.” 

Bobbi flinched. She got called ‘darling’ way too much in a condescending tone to have any sort of comfort with the word, and it oddly didn’t sound any better coming in the smooth, almost mysterious, voice of the woman in front of her. The woman was wearing a flower-printed dress to match her perfume, and peered at Bobbi like she was a puzzle to be solved. 

“I’m Raina Hollis. I own Orchid Lane, the… other bed and breakfast in Quinshire.” Raina had stopped looking at Bobbi halfway through her introduction, her wide brown eyes turning instead to the dilapidated room behind her. “Do you have much experience in running an inn?” Raina asked, brushing past Bobbi to inspect a painting of a woman hanging on the wall.

“Not really,” Bobbi answered, hugging her robe more protectively around her. “But I worked corporate for the past five-ish years, and -”

“ _ Corporate _ is nothing like this,” Raina interrupted, silky voice gaining an edge. “I applaud your… gumption.” She said gumption like a dirty word, and Bobbi wrinkled her nose. She couldn’t tell whether Raina was trying to be her friend or not, and she didn’t like it.

“Peggy Carter was my hero growing up,” Raina said, switching the subject. She was staring at the woman in the painting, so Bobbi had no choice but to assume that was Peggy. “A war hero who wore red lipstick. What more could a little girl ask for? Her grandson promised me the Mockingbird, but he decided he was better off making a  _ contest _ for it.” Raina’s dress flared around her knees when she whirled to face Bobbi again. “I’m willing to buy it from you, as is. I don’t have much but you can cut and run.”

Bobbi blinked. “I - I’d have to think about it.” She didn’t enter the contest hoping for a profit, just for an escape. But if Raina was offering her to buy the inn, maybe she could escape to someplace warm and sandy instead of cold and wet. Tahiti seemed nice this time of year. Hell, Tahiti seemed nice every time of year. It was a magical place, or so she’d been told.

“Yes, yes.” Raina gave a long-suffering sigh. “When you’re done thinking, call me, won’t you?” She handed Bobbi a business card on the way to the door, and exited with all the same mysterious grace that she had entered. For a moment, Bobbi wasn’t sure if she was gone or just going to check out the front patio (another to-do list item), but when the door creaked shut, it seemed final.

Bobbi twisted the lilac business card between her fingers, then slowly lifted it to her nose.

It smelled like flowers.

\---

Bobbi’s to-do list was nauseatingly long, and she needed a  _ lot _ to be able to get started. Elena had been able to point her to the town’s hardware store (after a delicious honey-sweetened hot chocolate) and Bobbi was browsing the aisles, to-do list in hand, trying to figure out what she needed.

Starting with the doorknob seemed safe. The lock was rusted beyond hope and its screws were stripped, so she needed the internal hardware as well as the external. She had the doorknob with her in hopes of getting something new in the same style, but the store seemed to be catering to more modern architecture, rather than a World War Two-era bed and breakfast. Bobbi understood that, considering there was only one such bed and breakfast in the town and probably loads more people looking for shiny new hardware.

“Having some trouble, love?”

Bobbi turned around to find a familiar set of hazel eyes looking back at her - or rather, looking at the knob still in her hand. She couldn’t  _ believe _ of all the people to run into at the hardware store, it had to be the man who ran into her suitcase while she was chasing after her still-unnamed mutt.

“I’m fine, thanks.” She turned back to the doorknob display, determined not to let him get under her skin.

“You know, that’s a fine piece of brass. It should be fine after your remove the tarnish.” Unsolicited advice from a stranger, just what she needed. “And brass is great, especially for someplace like your inn. It disinfects itself by -” 

“The oligodynamic effect, I know.” They had covered the oligodynamic effect in her Microbiology class, but Bobbi didn’t think the stranger would take kindly to her telling him that.

“Right. But really, the tarnish will come off easy with some salt and vinegar.”

Bobbi bit her lip. She actually hadn’t known how to remove the tarnish herself, but that was what YouTube was for. He didn’t need to treat her like she was incompetent. “I’m just looking for a new doorknob.” She resolutely ignored the scruffy man who was still hovering in the corner of her vision, and eventually, he got the message and wandered away. Good.

When she had picked out an acceptable replacement doorknob and a few tools to get her started in the repairs, Bobbi made her way to the store’s front desk, where a man with graying hair was talking on the phone excitedly. As soon as he saw her, though, he muttered something into the phone and slammed it back down into its cradle.

“You’re the American!”

“Uh…” Maybe Bobbi was crazy, but this guy seemed to be American, too. He didn’t look like he was going to explain the comment, though.

“I’m Phillip.” He stuck out his hand and shook hers enthusiastically when she took it. “We haven’t had someone new stay in Quinshire for…” He picked up the phone again and spoke into it instead of to Bobbi. “Hey, Mel, when did Daisy get here?” After a pause, Phillip set the phone back down and focused on Bobbi again. “We haven’t had someone new stay in four years.”

“Oh.” Bobbi didn’t know how to respond to that, so she just set her basket of items down on the counter. “Well, I’m here at least until I get the Mockingbird fixed up, so…”

“That’s good to hear!” Phillip began humming to himself as he scanned each of her items. Bobbi tried not to pay too much attention to the climbing total on the cash register’s screen. She needed all this stuff, and she had a chunk of change tucked away. She’d be fine. “That’s quite the project you have for yourself.”

“Yeah.” Bobbi let out a huffing sigh. “I’ve been considering getting a contractor or someone to help out. I’m kind of new at this stuff, and I wasn’t expecting it to be so… much.”

“Lucky for you, Quinshire has the best contractor both sides of the Atlantic.” Phillip finished totaling her items, and Bobbi handed him her credit card.

“Do you happen to have his number?” She wasn’t going to ask for help just yet, but if she started working on things and still felt in over her head, it was better to have that information on hand.

“Hey, Hunter!” Phillip called. “The American wants your number!”

“Why?” Bobbi’s face burned as a familiar voice rang out in response. It was just her luck that the town’s best contractor was the man who thought she was crazy.

“On second thought, I’ll be fine. Thanks for everything, Phil.” Bobbi accepted the cloth bag full of her supplies, and tried to hide her blush from Hunter as she beat a hasty retreat.

“Phil? I like it,” she heard him say, right before she escaped to the comfort of her car.

\---

This was the moment of truth. Bobbi was at the vet, filling out paperwork to get the dog a checkup. The paperwork, which required a patient name. She hadn’t thought of anything earth-shaking and at this point it seemed likely she never would. 

To hell with it. They were in England, so she was going to give the dog the most English-sounding name she possibly could.  _ Teacup _ , Bobbi printed neatly on the line. It was practically the only thing she could fill in on the paperwork. She didn’t know if the dog had shots or a microchip or anything of the sort - just that he wouldn’t leave her alone. Much like a certain human in this town couldn’t seem to leave her alone, but she wasn’t going to dwell on that.

After submitting the papers, Bobbi only had to wait five minutes before she was called to the back. Teacup followed her happily, seemingly unbothered by the sterile white walls and scent of antiseptic. The nurse had Bobbi lift him onto the table, but he remained calm even when she took his vital signs.

She had adopted a really weird dog.

“Dr. Campbell will be right with you,” the nurse told her with a smile before exiting the room. Before the door could even swing all the way shut, a tall blonde man was entering. He wore a white coat and scrubs, and had a pen tucked behind his left ear.

“G’day,” he said. Bobbi startled.

“That’s not a British accent, right?” She wasn’t going crazy already, was she?

The vet laughed. “No, no. I’m from Australia. Queensland.”

Bobbi breathed out a sigh of relief. It really was too early in her foreign adventure for her to discover she was wrong about everything she thought she knew. “Is anyone here actually from England?”

Dr. Campbell laughed. “A few. Lance Hunter, the town’s handyman -” Bobbi cut him off with a groan. Would she ever escape that man!? Dr. Campbell gave her a look, but didn’t comment. “Raina, who I’m sure you’ve met,” Bobbi nodded, “and a few others, too. The Carter family lived here for generations, before they were even the Carters, but only Sharon’s left, and she’s government so she’s in London most of the year.” Bobbi nodded along, glad for a town history lesson from someone who didn’t possibly hate her guts. She wasn’t sure she could trust Raina’s perspective on things

“Anyways,” Dr. Campbell said, turning to face Teacup. “What brings you in today?”

“Teacup’s a stray I picked up on my way to Quinshire. When I washed him earlier, he didn’t seem to have any fleas, but I don’t know anything about animals, so…” Bobbi’s parents hadn’t wanted to take care of a dog, or a cat, or even a gerbil. Bobbi had almost swung getting a tank of fish, but that had been vetoed, too. “I also wanted to make sure he didn’t belong to anyone,” she added lamely. 

“I’ll start with that, then I can check him for fleas and some other common maladies we see with strays. And I’ll want to discuss a vaccine schedule with you, too,” the veterinarian said. Bobbi agreed readily, watching as Dr. Campbell produced a machine that he ran over Teacup’s scruff.

“You’re in luck. He’s all yours.” 

A small weight lifted off Bobbi’s shoulders. She was already too attached to the dog -  _ her _ dog - and it would have sucked to have to give him back to someone else. “We can also chip him today, if you’d like.”

“Sounds good.”

The rest of the appointment flew by as Dr. Campbell - who insisted halfway through their conversation to be called Lincoln - went about chipping Teacup, checking him for fleas and mites, and drawing blood for heartworm detection. Teacup received a treat for his status as a very good boy, and it seemed the vet visit wasn’t too traumatic for him.

“Have you visited the nursery yet?” Lincoln asked as Bobbi was preparing to leave. “I heard through the grapevine the front yard of the Mockingbird could use some work.”

“It’s next on my list,” Bobbi said, stifling her annoyance that everyone was already talking about what she was apparently neglecting in her renovations. She was only one person, she couldn’t do everything at once!

“When you do go, it’ll be a good time.” Was Bobbi imaginings things or were Lincoln’s ears turning red? “Daisy, the owner, is… She’s great.”

“Great, right.” Bobbi gave him a knowing smile and Lincoln flushed deeper. “I’ll tell her you sent me when I see her.”

Lincoln looked momentarily mortified, then stuttered out an excuse about having to see another patient. Bobbi gave Teacup a look, shaking her head. Men.

\---

After Lincoln’s recommendation, Bobbi couldn’t help but want to visit the nursery. The next day she set out early in the morning after taking Teacup on his morning walk. She would’ve brought him with her, but she suspected he wouldn’t be welcome around a plethora of dirt he could dig up or flowers he could ruin.

The nursery was much bigger than Bobbi expected, but it was thrilling, too. The owner - Daisy, Lincoln said her name was - seemed to have a focus on native species, which was unspeakably exciting. There were so many flowers Bobbi didn’t even recognize, let alone know the names or the purposes of, and she knew she could get lost in the nursery. That was better than getting lost in her labyrinthine inn.

“Hello!” Bobbi startled; she had been too busy reading the Wikipedia page on one of the flowers in the nursery to realize someone was approaching her.

“Hi.” She stuffed her phone back into her pocket. “Are you Daisy?”

“The one and only. It’s so good to meet you! I feel like I’m the last one!” Daisy threw her arms around Bobbi in a welcoming hug, and it was much different from Raina’s. It actually felt like a comfort, and the smell of flowers that clung to Daisy wasn’t manufactured.

“Yeah, Lincoln mentioned I should stop by sometime. Apparently there’s gossip about my landscaping.”

“Lincoln?” Daisy repeated, ignoring Bobbi’s fishing for gossip. She needed to get better at that if she was going to live in this place for the next few months.

“Yes?” Bobbi couldn’t read Daisy’s expression.

“Cool, cool, cool.” The words all slurred together. “So, I saw you looking at the monkeyflower -”

“Nuh uh.” Bobbi crossed her arms. “You like Lincoln, right?”

“Psh - me and Lincoln? No, no, definitely no, he’s just a friend.” 

“A friend who goes out of his way to recommend strangers go to the nursery. Right.” Bobbi wasn’t going to push any further, but she really hoped Daisy realized how ridiculous she sounded.

“He’s just nice!”

Alright, so this was a hopeless case. Maybe Elena knew something about it - Bobbi would have to ask when she stopped in for her afternoon scone and coffee. 

“Daisy!”

Fucking  _ hell _ , why did this keep happening to her? Bobbi looked for a convenient place to hide, but found none before Lance Hunter was jogging up to her and Daisy.

“Sorry, am I interrupting?”

“No, you’re not,” Bobbi answered before Daisy could. “I was about to go look at some shrubs.” She speed walked away before Hunter could add landscaping to his list of areas of expertise, choosing instead to immerse herself in shrubbery. She still kept half an eye on Daisy and Hunter, since she didn’t want her conversation with Daisy to end just yet. She needed more friends than Elena and her dog.

Hunter didn’t take more than two minutes of Daisy’s time, and she approached Bobbi again when she was done. “Sorry, Hunter just had a question about the heather,” she said, rolling her eyes. “The man has been trying to grow it in basic soil, can you believe?”

“I can.”

“Do you two have some sort of beef? You left really quickly when he came in.”

“It’s fine,” Bobbi deflected. “He just seems to know the answers to all my problems, and I cannot deal with someone who sees me as a fixer-upper right now.” Even if she felt that way, she didn’t want everyone else to see she needed help. 

“Oh.” Daisy paused a beat. “He doesn’t, you know. He’s just too helpful for his own good.”

Bobbi snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“Hey.” Daisy’s voice gained an edge of defensiveness. “He’s good people, okay? He and Izzy took me in when I first moved here, and he helps out a lot. You go to Miel, right? All the honey’s Hunter’s.” 

Bobbi was going to refrain from asking about how Daisy knew she hung out at Miel, and instead focus on, “Hunter keeps bees? I thought he was just a contractor.”

“Nah, he’s kind of a jack of all trades. He likes to keep busy.” Bobbi could at least agree with that. “Has since Izzy died.”

“Izzy was his girlfriend?”

“Oh, God, no!” Daisy made a gagging noise. “She was… kind of like his big sister? Or maybe his best friend? I don’t know, they were friends before I came to town. She died in a big fire two summers ago. He changed after that, you know?”

“Yeah.” Bobbi didn’t really know - no one close to her had died, and she hadn’t had anyone close enough to her that she could see the effects of grief on someone else. Still, she figured telling Daisy wasn’t the best move, and she understood the point. Losing someone close could make someone unrecognizable.

“Sorry to be all depressing, but I get a little defensive of Hunter. He’s basically been my best friend since I moved here, and he seems to really like you.”

Bobbi scoffed. “We’ve met, like, twice.”

“I like you and we’ve only met once.” Daisy grinned. “Just tell him to shut up if you need to. I promise it’ll work.”

“Right.” Bobbi didn’t think that would actually work, but since she seemed destined to run into Hunter at inopportune times, it was worth remembering.

Speaking of running into people at inopportune times…

“Bobbi! I was hoping I’d see you here!” Did Raina own nothing but floral-printed dresses? It was all Bobbi had seen her in since moving to Quinshire.

“Hi, Raina.” Bobbi smiled stiffly. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you darling. Oh, I see you’re finally going to be doing something about that  _ horrendous _ front yard of yours, it’s quite an eyesore -” Raina kept talking, but Bobbi stopped listening, up until, “- and you will be able to make it to afternoon tea tomorrow, won’t you?”

“Um, sure.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you at Orchid Lane tomorrow at half three.” Raina breezed away, and Bobbi was left staring at the spot Raina had been standing in, jaw agape.

“Does she ever stop being like that?”

“No,” Daisy sighed. “No, she doesn’t.”

\---

Bobbi’s drive to Orchid Lane was uneventful, right until the moment she turned down the street the bed and breakfast was on. The place was, predictably, lined in orchids, but Bobbi hadn’t realized how  _ beautiful _ it would look. It felt like driving into a fairy tale, with a rainbow of flowers guiding her to the pot of gold at the end - the bright white bed and breakfast that was Raina’s pride and joy.

Bobbi parked carefully to avoid disturbing any of the flowers, and when she ducked out of her Prius, Raina was already waiting for her.

“So glad you could make it.” She didn’t sound glad at all, but Bobbi knew better than to point that out. Raina led her into the front hall of the bed and breakfast, and Bobbi peered around in horrid fascination. While the flowers outside had been awe-inspiring, the flowered wallpaper inside just seemed… creepy, almost. Bobbi couldn’t figure out what exactly about flowers Raina enjoyed, because the flowers on the wallpaper seemed to be nothing but ghosts of the real thing. It was like thinking porcelain dolls were an accurate reflection of the beauty of humanity.

“This is our sitting room,” Raina said, leading Bobbi into another flower-pasted room. There was a vase of roses in the corner, and upon further inspection, Bobbi discovered they were plastic, but still sprayed with perfume. A shiver marched up her spine, but she turned away from the flowers so Raina could gesture her into an armchair. It nearly swallowed Bobbi whole, but she straightened her spine to keep from disappearing entirely.

“I’ll just get Mr. Gonzales to his room,” Raina stage whispered, grabbing the still-lit cigarette from the man dozing in the corner of the sitting room before gently shaking him awake and leading him out of the room. That left Bobbi a minute to look around and truly appreciate Raina’s devotion to theme. There wasn’t a single thing in the room  _ not  _ covered in flowers, save for Bobbi herself.

“Anyways,” Raina said, breezing back into the room and beginning to fuss with the tea set on the petite table in the center of the room. “I was wondering if you had given my offer any more thought?”

In all honesty, Bobbi hadn’t. It was like as soon as Raina left the idea of selling the Mockingbird had flown out of her head. Thinking about it unsettled Bobbi. In the two weeks since she’d moved to Quinshire, she’d felt more genuine affection from the people she’d met than she had in the rest of her life combined - which said something about her old life, something bad. 

“I have,” Bobbi lied. “I’m not interested in selling right now, Raina.” Maybe when she was done renovating the inn and she was ready to rebuild her life in New York, Raina could have the Mockingbird, but right now Bobbi needed something to keep her from a shame spiral. 

“A pity,” Raina said, handing Bobbi a teacup and saucer. “I do hope we can keep in touch, though, darling.”

“Of course,” Bobbi answered. She still wasn’t sure whether Raina was being polite because she was hoping Bobbi would change her mind or because that was her personality, but it didn’t really matter - soon Bobbi was being sucked into endless small talk and town gossip. The Mockingbird wasn’t brought up again.

\---

Miel was having their monthly fish fry, and Bobbi had been told in no uncertain terms her attendance was required. She was a little confused about why the cafe was holding a fish fry nowhere near Lent, but Elena said the Brits could never resist an opportunity to eat an unholy amount of fish and chips. Bobbi couldn’t argue with that logic, and it seemed like the fish fry was the closest thing to a party she’d be attending for the foreseeable future, so she agreed.

The crowd filled every corner of the cafe and spilled out to the back patio, where Elena’s husband was standing by the deep fryer with a plate of fish cutlets at his side. Elena was trying to help Mack fry, but she kept getting pulled away by someone or other needing her attention. Bobbi stood at the patio entrance, waiting for Elena to have a moment to breathe - and also maybe tell Bobbi where there was room to sit.

“Hola!” Elena said breathlessly, dashing up to Bobbi. “We have room to squeeze you in the back corner.” She pointed to the table in question before she had to run again, but it was enough for Bobbi. She threaded her way through the throng of people and plopped herself at the table.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

She hadn’t even noticed Hunter already at the table. Damnit. Now she couldn’t get up and leave without looking like an asshole.

“I’ve got nowhere better to be.” False. She could be in bed with her dog, watching Netflix. But that didn’t involve free food, so Bobbi was here instead. 

“Even though I’m here?” Hunter’s eyes sparkled when he asked the question, and it took Bobbi longer than she’d like to admit to realize he was making a joke at his own expense.

“I suppose.”

“I -” Hunter began, just as Bobbi was saying the same thing. He blushed, but she waved for him to continue.

“I’m sorry if I came off as patronizing. There’s not that many people around here I get to talk shop with and I guess I got a little ahead of myself.”

Bobbi cocked her head to the side. She hadn’t really been expecting an apology. “I owe you one, too. For being… unnecessarily bitchy in the face of honest advice.” She paused. “Even if you were being kind of mansplain-y.”

Hunter cringed. “What if I promise never to do it again?”

“I’d tell you not to make promises you couldn’t keep.”

“Fair.” Hunter paused. “But will you at least let me try?”

The corners of Bobbi’s lips turned up. “Yeah, I’ll let you try.”

Hunter let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“Sorry for the wait, you two,” Elena said as she set down a steaming platter of fried fish on their newspaper-covered table. “I’ll be bringing around chips and the fixings in just a jiff!”

Bobbi didn’t care as much about the fries when there was so much fish in front of her. Miel hadn’t provided utensils, which meant there was only one way to do this - the old fashioned way. She plucked one of the fried filets off the top of the pile, and immediately dropped it on the table with a yelp. It was hot!

“Weakling,” Hunter teased, grabbing his own fish and taking a giant bite. The expression on his face was comical, and soon he was panting through his open mouth, “Hot hot hot hot!”

Bobbi couldn’t help but laugh, but then moved on to distracting them both with talk about the Mockingbird and what she had been spending the last week doing. She had mostly focused on making the house more livable by fixing the doors and windows and removing the dirt from various nooks and crannies. There was still a lot to fix - she hadn’t even touched the appliances yet - but the house was functional, if only barely. 

Hunter actually had a few good ideas on how to help the home become more eco-friendly, which surprised Bobbi. It shouldn’t have, since the man was apparently a beekeeper, but it did. The conversation meandered away from the Mockingbird and into the local Quinshire gossip, but they always wound their way back to the inn. They reached the end of their plate of fish too soon, and Bobbi savored the last greasy bite with a groan. Elena had never gotten around to giving them a chip platter, but Bobbi was stuffed regardless.

Bobbi let out a resounding sneeze just as she finished wiping her fingers on the newspaper, and Hunter jumped at the sudden noise.

“You alright?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s probably just the different types of pollen irritating my nose. New climate and everything.” Hunter didn’t look convinced, but Bobbi had to believe herself. She didn’t want to think that her habit of pulling sixteen-hour days would probably come back to bite her.

She sneezed again.

“I should probably be getting home to Teacup…” Bobbi said awkwardly. She hadn’t realized it, but the crowd had all but disappeared even as she and Hunter had kept talking.

“Teacup?”

“My dog,” she explained.

“Oh, so there really was a dog?”

“You’re a jerk.”

“But you like me anyways.”

Surprisingly enough, Bobbi couldn’t argue with that.

\---

Bobbi felt like absolute, utter shit. Her head was pounding and her nose was stuffed and her throat burned every time she tried to swallow - and every time she let out a cough, which was often.

So much for it just being allergies.

“Urgh,” Bobbi moaned when her cell began to ring. She grabbed it off the bedside table and grunted what she hoped was an appropriate greeting.

“Open the front door.” 

“Huh?” Why was Daisy telling her to open the door? Why was Daisy asking her to get out of bed at all?

“Open the front door or Hunter’s going to pick the lock.”

That was enough to get Bobbi moving. She trudged down the stairs, barely registering she was still in her pajamas, and swung open the front door.

People paraded into her entrance, then past her into the kitchen. Daisy caught Bobbi’s elbow and tugged her along to the kitchen. 

“Sit.” Daisy pushed her down onto a chair, and Elena shoved a cup of tea into her hands. Mack was busy rummaging in the kitchen, and obviously realized Bobbi was woefully understocked, and hadn’t been eating anything that required more than a microwave. 

“Hunter, buddy, can you fix this up in time for lunch?” Mack asked. Bobbi blinked. Right, Hunter was here, too.

“I’ll need to make a trip to Phillip’s, but it should be doable,” Hunter said. Bobbi sneezed. “I can get her some tissues and paracetamol while I’m out, too.”

Bobbi made a vague noise of protest, but Elena shushed her and gestured for her to drink her tea. Bobbi did so, sipping her tea as people bustled around her. She didn’t have enough brain power to figure out what exactly was happening, just that people were moving. Teacup came to sit at her feet, and his warmth was a welcome distraction from the hullabaloo.

“Come on,” Daisy said, removing Bobbi’s empty cup from her hand. “Let’s get you back into bed.”

Bed sounded nice. 

Sleep sounded nice, so she did.


	3. Chapter 3

The most interesting thing about living in a small town was that everyone seemed to manage to go to every town event. Bobbi was glad she had recovered from her cold-flu-thing in time to attend a fundraiser for the town’s fire department. She was sure there would have been talk if she hadn’t been there, even if her excuse was a good one.

Main Street had been cordoned off, and there were a dozen folding tables all offering different goods to support the fundraiser. Elena was at Miel’s table, and she waved at Bobbi as she passed, but there was something Bobbi was more interested in: the dunk tank at the end of the street. Hunter was perched on a seat above the tank of water, waiting for someone to hit the target that would send him plunging downwards. 

It was probably a requirement of being the fire chief to sit in the dunk tank, but Hunter looked absolutely delighted to be doing it. His hair was dripping and his clothes were slick against his skin, but he was grinning and laughing at something one of the other firefighters was saying to him. He looked a lot better when he was happy - not that Bobbi was focused on how he looked or anything. She hadn’t even known Hunter would be here, since Daisy hadn’t mentioned he was the volunteer fire chief until the day before. It was one of his keep busy projects, Daisy said, like bee-keeping but more dangerous.

“Hey!” Hunter called when Bobbi was in earshot.

“Hey yourself.” She lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the sun when she looked at Hunter. “Don’t suppose I could have a moment of your time?”

“You can,” Hunter said. “If you dunk me.” From the shit-eating grin on his face, he didn’t seem to think she was capable of doing it. Joke was on him. Bobbi took one of the pound coins out of her course, flicking it into the donation bucket. It was enough to buy her one throw, and she tossed the ball she was given idly from hand to hand. It was a little heftier than what she was used to, but it would work.

The look on Hunter’s face when he splashed into the water was _definitely_ worth the price of the throw.

“You got me!” he said, flailing dramatically, as if he could drown in the dunk tank. Bobbi rolled her eyes at him, waiting patiently until he floundered his way to the side and out of the tank. Hunter shook himself dry like a dog, accepting a towel that he slung around his shoulders as he made his way to Bobbi.

“Quite an arm you got there, love.”

“My parents thought softball would look good on college apps.” Bobbi’s height made her an excellent runner, and her coach had put her on outfield all four of her years on her high school’s softball team.

“Remind me not to piss you off. That arm could probably pack quite a punch.” He dodged out of the way before she could test his hypothesis. Good - he was learning. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Thanks.” Bobbi looked down at her feet. “And thanks for fixing up the kitchen while I was out of it.”

“You needed a good home-cooked meal to get better. Hard to get that without a kitchen to cook in.”

“I know. But still… thanks.”

“One thing you have to learn, Bob, is that we take care of our own here. Phillip’s already got the adoption papers drawn up, so you’re stuck.”

Bobbi chuckled. She hoped Phil didn’t _actually_ have adoption papers, but Daisy had made a similar joke, so she wasn’t entirely sure. “You do good work, Hunter.” That had been apparent to her even through her original haze of cough syrup and pain medication, and only became more obvious when she was in her right mind. For someone who looked unkempt most of the time, Hunter had a surprising attention to detail. 

“Thank you…?”

“What I’m trying to say is, I’d like if you could keep doing good work on the Mockingbird. With me. As a partner.”

That stopped Hunter dead in his tracks. “A partner?”

“Yeah. We work on the renovations together, split everything fifty-fifty, and then when we sell, split the profits the same.”

“When we sell?” he repeated.

“I mean, I’m not going to stay here forever. I just need some time away from New York, to get my head on straight again.” Bobbi wasn’t ready to let go of her architecture dreams yet - she just needed a reset button. 

“Right.” Hunter gave her a close-lipped smile, then extended his hand. “It’s a deal.”

Bobbi took his hand, shaking it firmly. It was official: Lance Hunter was her partner.

\---

Hunter had shown up bright and early that morning, and even though it wasn’t noon yet they had already made significant progress on the next phase of the renovations. She and Hunter had reviewed her plan together and he had agreed eco-friendly drywall wouldn’t hurt the inn’s rustic charm. The process of installing that drywall proved laborious, though, because it meant they had to gut the inn. That required respirators and full-body coverage, since neither of them were quite sure what was in the old walls and Bobbi didn’t particularly want to end up with tuberculosis or cancer or whatever else the 1940s-era architecture could give her.

“Last wall before we break for lunch?” Hunter asked, lifting his respirator off his face so Bobbi could hear him clearly. Bobbi nodded, not bothering to take her own respirator off. Hunter made an ‘after you’ gesture, allowing Bobbi to make the first hit to the wall behind the fireplace.

Her hammer connected with the drywall and buckled it in almost instantly. Hunter joined in, and together they made quick work of it. When they were almost done gutting the wall, though, Bobbi spotted something. 

“Wait!” Her shout wasn’t quite clear through the respirator, but Hunter seemed to get the picture. Bobbi picked her way through the mess on the floor, reaching into the wall. Lying on top of one of the cross beams was something she couldn’t quite make out. She wrapped her hand in the sleeve of her shirt, reaching in to grab the mysterious object.

When she withdrew her hand and brought the mystery into the light, it was obvious what she thought was one object was actually a pile of letters. They were covered in drywall dust, which Bobbi brushed off using her sleeve - good thing it was an old shirt she didn’t care much about.

She squinted at the writing, but couldn’t make anything out with all the dust swirling through the air.

“Let’s get lunch,” she said to Hunter.

He gestured to the respirator, and Bobbi realized what she had just said was probably lost in a slurry of syllables. She pulled it off her face. “Let’s get lunch and take a look at these,” she repeated.

“You got it, boss.”

Bobbi was about to tell him off - she definitely wasn’t his boss, they had agreed to that! - but Hunter was already stripping off his respirator and outer layer of clothing, leaving him in a sweat-damp tank top and his jeans. He gamboled out the front door, whistling for Teacup as he did. Bobbi shook her head (to free the dust from her hair, and _not_ because she was trying to clear her thoughts) and grabbed their lunches, courtesy of Elena.

Hunter was sitting on the front step of the porch, one hand resting on Teacup’s head while he looked out to the lawn. They still needed to tackle that project, but there were some things in the house that took priority - especially tasks they needed to complete for Bobbi to feel comfortable living there for the duration of their work.

“Look at these,” she whispered, setting the lunch down between them and turning her focus back to the letters in her hand. She wiped off more of the dust, then realized Hunter had had the right idea with taking off at least one layer of clothing. When she stripped off her sweatshirt she used it to clean off the last of the grime, finally making the writing on the front of the letters clear.

“My beloved,” she read. “That’s… wow.”

“We found love letters in your inn wall?” Hunter asked, reaching for a sandwich.

“It seems that way.” Bobbi looked at the pile of papers in her hands, turning it about. There must have been at least a dozen letters there, probably more. “Should we read them?”

“Do you want to?”

“I don’t know.” Bobbi caught her lower lip between her teeth. “It seems kind of… personal.”

“If they were personal, why leave them in the wall?” Hunter asked. That was a fair point. Whoever had put the letters in the wall must’ve known they would be found someday, but…

“I don’t know.” Bobbi put down the stack of letters and picked up the other sandwich Elena had packed. “But I don’t know if I would want some stranger reading my love letters.”

“You don’t even know who they’re from,” Hunter pointed out. “For all you know, these people are long gone and don’t care whether or not you read their mushy stuff.”

That was fair. Raina had mentioned the last time the place was renovated was during World War II, which meant any people old enough to have been writing letters (and hiding them in walls) was likely dead now. Which didn’t do much to settle Bobbi, actually.

“If you’re really not sure, I can take them,” Hunter offered. “So you won’t be tempted.”

“Are you going to read them?” Bobbi asked, giving him a dubious look.

“That’s for me to know and you never to find out.” He grinned at her, and Bobbi sighed. She was learning she had a difficult time saying no to Hunter, especially when he looked at her with those stupid big eyes. It was unfair, really.

“Fine.” She handed over the letters, ignoring the tug in her heart and her brain at the unfulfilled curiosity. There was no way that letters with _my beloved_ written on them, hidden away in a wall, didn’t have an amazing story to them. But it was a story she’d never know, because it would be weird.

That’s what Bobbi kept telling herself.

\---

After spending so much time working on the interior of the inn, Bobbi and Hunter had decided working on the landscaping was a necessary change of pace. They had elected to start working on the flower beds, which would be a smaller task than trying to tame the jungle that was the lawn.

There was one problem: the dog.

Teacup was locked out of the house when they were working for his own safety, since dogs and power tools didn’t mix. Now that he was allowed to be around Bobbi and Hunter, he was making the most of it, and generally getting in the way. Bobbi didn’t want to shut him inside, not when he was having such a fun time prancing around in the sunlight, but she was worried eventually something bad was going to happen.

It didn’t take long for that premonition to become a reality.

“Teacup!” Bobbi looked up at Hunter’s shout, and then her jaw dropped.

Her dog was absolutely filthy, and he had just destroyed the flower bed Bobbi had spent all morning on. Daisy was going to be _so_ pissed her flowers had been destroyed within days of purchase. Bobbi had been planning to at least kill them slowly (and accidentally) rather than destroy them in a fit of canine passion, but here they were.

She peeled off her gardening gloves and caught Teacup by his collar before the dog could launch himself into Hunter’s flower bed.

“Oh, Teacup,” Bobbi sighed as she stepped over the dog, holding him in between her legs so she wouldn’t risk choking him on his own collar. “What am I going to do with you?” Most of the time Bobbi forgot Teacup had been a stray, but it made sense why he had so joyously launched himself at the flower bed - he was used to getting messy and having fun in whatever way he wanted, without having anyone to answer to.

But now he _did_ have someone to answer to, and Bobbi Morse was _not_ going to have a dirty dog running around.

“I think we need to give him a bath before we do anything else,” she told Hunter. 

He nodded, then added, “We should probably leave him inside. At least until we can figure out how to keep him out of the beds.”

“Yeah.” Bobbi frowned. “I just don’t like it.”

“It’s okay, Bob.” Hunter gave her a smile. “Any man would be lucky to be tied down by you.”

Bobbi rolled her eyes at him. “I’m not tying him anywhere.” But she understood what Hunter meant - she was going to have to infringe on Teacup’s freedom for his own good.

“We can go around back,” Bobbi suggested. There was a hose at the back side of the bed and breakfast, and Bobbi had confirmed it worked earlier that morning when they had watered the plants. 

Hunter followed her and Teacup around the back of the house, and the dog calmed down considerably when the flower beds were no longer in sight. Bobbi had a feeling he wasn’t going to stay calm for long, though.

“Do you want me to hold him while you rinse?” Hunter asked. 

“No, it’s fine.” Bobbi sighed. She should have been the one watching the dog and making sure he didn’t get into trouble, so it was only right she got hosed down right alongside him. At least she wasn’t wearing white like Hunter was - that would’ve led to a possibly embarrassing situation.

Hunter unwound the hose while Bobbi led Teacup to a relatively clear patch of the backyard.

“Ready?” Hunter asked, hand on the knob for the hose. Bobbi nodded, bracing herself.

No amount of bracing would have prepared her for the shock of the cold water against her skin. It was freezing! She only just managed to keep her hold on Teacup as he lunged… towards the water? Bobbi sighed. She really did have the weirdest dog ever.

“I’m not sure you need to hold onto him, Bob.” Hunter grinned at her. Bobbi let go of Teacup’s collar, which proved Hunter’s theory right - the dog barked as he leapt into the stream of the hose.

Hunter made a game of it, having Teacup chase the stream of water to and fro across the backyard. He was also doing a fabulous job of watering the grass, which had seen better days. When it was less brown and crunchy Bobbi would need to take a lawnmower to the back. She added it to her to-do list. She had an official to-do list stuck to the fridge in the kitchen, but somehow Bobbi thought leaving Hunter alone with a dog and a hose wasn’t the smartest idea.

He was laughing, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the most adorable way. Bobbi sighed and allowed herself the simple pleasure of enjoying someone else’s happiness. That was one thing she loved about Quinshire; everyone was happy, or at least trying to be. In the city, it seemed like everyone was determined to be miserable. There were no backyards to play in or hoses to spray or -

Bobbi yelped when cold water hit her bare feet. She looked up to see Hunter’s smile splitting his face open.

“Don’t you dare,” she said, raising her hand in defense.

“Fine.” Hunter stuck his lower lip out in a pout, and then turned the hose… upwards?

Bobbi realized what was happening a moment too late. Water rained down on Hunter from above, and he let out a joyous whoop as it soaked through his tank top and jeans. He threw the hose down and began running - straight towards Bobbi.

“Hunter!” she shrieked, taking off in the opposite direction.

“I just want a hug!” he yelled back.

Teacup joined in their game, winding around Bobbi’s feet while she ran in circles around the yard. It was because of Teacup slowing her down that Hunter was able to catch her, Bobbi told herself. It had nothing to do with her _wanting_ to be caught.

Hunter grabbed her around the waist and swung her through the air. Even just from that, the back of Bobbi’s shirt became damp. She almost slipped when her feet hit the wet grass on the way down, but Hunter grabbed her hand before she could tumble all the way down.

She turned to thank him, but just one look stole her breath away. Hunter’s hair was stuck to his forehead, water dripping down his flushed face. He was panting, the heaving motion of his chest betraying just how hard they had just been running - and drawing Bobbi’s attention to his tank top, now entirely translucent because of the water. It clung to him like a second skin, outlining his muscles with stunning clarity. She blinked, and her brain restarted after an embarrassingly long pause.

“I am never letting you help me give the dog a bath again,” Bobbi declared, dragging her eyes back up to Hunter’s face.

“Fair.” He grinned.

Teacup barked, and the moment was broken.

\---

Bobbi didn’t get the chance to revisit the nursery until the next day; the planting, Teacup’s bath, the subsequent water fight, and the shower it necessitated had taken more time than it should’ve. It probably had something to do with how Bobbi kept losing her focus thinking about Hunter’s tank top plastered to his skin and his _stupid, beautiful smile_. 

Bobbi huffed as she stepped through into the nursery’s main greenhouse. She was not going to spend her time mooning over Hunter. He was her business partner, and nothing more. Whether she wanted him to be anything more was irrelevant.

“Didn’t think I’d be seeing you here again so soon,” Daisy said when she saw Bobbi. “Did Hunter not like the flowers you picked?”

“Hunter liked them just fine,” Bobbi answered. “But so did Teacup.”

Daisy’s face fell. “My poor flowers.”

“I’m sorry, Dais. But I’ve learned my lesson about leaving the dog unsupervised.”

“He’s not the only one you shouldn’t leave unsupervised,” Daisy added with a grin, leading Bobbi back towards the ornamental flowers. 

Bobbi raised her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“_Hunter_,” Daisy said, exasperated. “You two shouldn’t be left alone together. He’s totally into you and eventually he’s going to make a move.”

Bobbi fought against the flush spreading on her cheeks, but it was a losing battle. Daisy noticed her blushing and smiled mischievously. “Oh, so it’s like that.”

“It’s not like anything,” Bobbi protested, looking away from Daisy. Ostensibly it was so she could look at the flowers in front of her, but Bobbi already knew what she wanted to purchase. Daisy didn’t have to know that, though. “He’s just being friendly.”

“Babe,” Daisy sighed. “You repeatedly insult him and he still rushes to your aid when you’re sick, _and_ agrees to be your business partner? He’s into you.”

“I apologized for the insulting thing! And he agreed he was being an ass, so -”

“Strike three, you’re out! Guys _never_ admit they’re wrong unless it’ll get them laid.”

“Daisy!”

“Bobbi.”

“I really don’t think you’re in a position to talk about pining, since somebody still won’t tell a certain veterinarian she’s had a crush on him for years.” Turning the conversation around on Daisy probably wasn’t the noblest of tactics, but Bobbi was already confused enough without someone else insisting she and Hunter were meant to be, or whatever Daisy was trying to say.

“Yeah, about that…” Bobbi looked up sharply, and it was Daisy’s turn to go pink

“_Daisy_!”

“I was going to tell you!” Daisy insisted. “But it kind of happened on accident, and I was a little overwhelmed and I’ve wanted it for so long and-!”

Bobbi placed a soothing hand on Daisy’s arm. “I’m happy for you, Dais. We need a girls night soon so you can tell me about _all_ the juicy details.”

Daisy quirked an eyebrow. 

“Okay, maybe not _all_ the details. I don’t need to know my vet’s kinks,” Bobbi amended. “But really, I need to hear this story. ‘It happened on accident’ is not enough of an explanation.”

“Pinkie promise.” Daisy said, offering her hand. Bobbi hooked their fingers together and shook before turning back to the array of flowers.

“I was thinking maybe some mums…”

\---

“Hey, Bob,” Hunter greeted as he stepped through the front door of Miel. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you here today.”

“Had to eat sometime,” Bobbi answered. She was taking a working breakfast; it was easier to keep herself on-task when she was working in Miel instead of at the kitchen table in the Mockingbird. When she was at the inn she just kept thinking of things to add to her to-do list, which kept her from working on the actual task at hand.

“You eat!?” Hunter dodged her poorly-aimed smack, waltzing up to the counter. “Hola, Elena!” he called into the back. Elena had retreated there after making Bobbi’s breakfast, and hadn’t emerged since - probably because there was no need to be out when most of the town had already gone to their day jobs. 

“Hunter, thank God you’re here!” Elena said, breezing out of the kitchen. “Mack forgot to tell me we were almost out of clover honey and it’s going to take at least a week for our order to get in. I don’t suppose you could spare any?”

“I can spare plenty for you.” Hunter winked at Elena and a fire built itself in Bobbi’s stomach. She ignored it pointedly. Elena was married to Mack, and even if she wasn’t, who Hunter flirted with was none of her business.

“Hey Bob, want to go on an adventure?”

Bobbi looked down at the papers in front of her forlornly. There was still so much to plan; they needed to work on the upstairs bedrooms and installing the solar panels and balancing the checkbook and -

“Take a break!” Elena called from behind the counter. “I’ll make sure no one steals your things.”

Bobbi couldn’t really fight that; Elena and Hunter’s stubbornness together was more than a match for hers.

“If this is all part of your plan to kidnap and murder me, good work on the long con,” Bobbi said as she followed Hunter out to his car. She slid into the passenger seat - which she still thought of as the driver’s seat - and buckled herself in.

“I really don’t know how to respond to that,” Hunter chuckled. “I feel like saying I won’t kill you is just as suspicious.”

“Yup,” Bobbi agreed. She reached over to turn on the radio. Despite the teasing, she was comfortable in Hunter’s presence. Comfortable enough, in fact, that when the radio switched over to the next song, she began humming along.

“You’re a Whitney fan?” Hunter asked, glancing over at her.

“Who _isn’t_ a Whitney fan?” Bobbi answered. “This is a classic car karaoke song!”

She didn’t expect Hunter to begin belting out the lyrics, but that was exactly what he did. “And when the night falls, loneliness calls!”

Bobbi looked at him in disbelief before making her choice. “Oh, I wanna dance with somebody!”

“I wanna feel the _heat_ with somebody!” 

“_Oh I wanna dance with somebody, with somebody who loves me!_” They chorused together.

By the time the song was over, Bobbi’s cheeks ached and her stomach hurt from laughing. Hunter was one of the biggest hams in the universe, and it showed when he sang carpool karaoke. There was something to be said about listening to Hunter sing about burning love and dancing with somebody, too - but it was probably just the singing that had Bobbi’s pulse racing.

They sang another song, and another, and were halfway through the fourth when Hunter pulled up the gravel driveway to his house.

It was smaller than Bobbi expected, and the mint green color of the siding didn’t seem very Hunter-ish at all, but the way he moved up the driveway and through the front door made it obvious this was more than just Hunter’s house; it was his _home_. 

Bobbi followed him into the house, where he was rummaging around in the kitchen. The walls were surprisingly full, and Bobbi peered around at them. It felt like an invasion of privacy, even with Hunter standing not ten feet away from her.

“Is this Izzy?” she asked, picking up a photo frame that was sitting on a coffee table. 

“Huh?” Hunter asked, looking up. He paused, then nodded. “Yeah. That’s Iz.”

The woman in the photo was older than Hunter by a few years, and looked oddly nondescript. She had brown hair and brown eyes and a smile that most people wouldn’t look twice at, but Bobbi still found her fascinating. This was Hunter’s best friend.

She set the photo back down gently, wandering closer to Hunter.

“Daisy told me what happened to her,” Bobbi said softly. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.” Hunter answered gruffly, setting down the jar of honey he was holding and bracing himself against the counter. “You didn’t set the fire.”

“I know.” Bobbi slid her hand to cover Hunter’s. “But I’m still sorry you lost someone you loved.”

“It’s life.”

“You’re being stupid,” Bobbi admonished, tugging at Hunter until he turned to face her. “Pain might be a part of life, but that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to feel it.”

Hunter sighed, leaning into her. Bobbi wrapped her arms around him in a loose hug, letting him drop his forehead drop against her shoulder.

“I didn’t have time to feel it then, because everything happened so fast,” he murmured. “And now it seems too late.”

“It’s never too late,” Bobbi answered. “If now isn’t good, it isn’t good. But whenever you’re ready, I’m here to listen.” She didn’t want Hunter to hurt, but she wasn’t much good at this whole comforting thing. She could do the easy part - playing with the hose and singing in the car and laughing together - but _this_ was the hard part. But she wanted to get better at it… and oddly, not only for Hunter’s sake. Someday Daisy would need a shoulder to cry on, and Elena, and… she really should stop thinking about the future. She wasn’t going to be in Quinshire forever, and she needed to accept that.

“What sucks,” Hunter said slowly, “was that it wasn’t the fire that got her, exactly. The building was old and a beam was weak and it collapsed and…” The noise he made wasn’t quite a sob, but it split Bobbi’s heart in two. She carded her fingers through his hair, tightening her grip on him. 

Bobbi couldn’t think of anything to say. Everything she could possibly say would be a lie or sound hollow. Instead of speaking she kept running her fingers through Hunter’s hair, humming softly. He composed himself quickly, for someone who had just relived the death of his best friend.

“Thank you for being here,” Hunter whispered into her neck.

_There’s no place I’d rather be_, Bobbi wanted to say. Instead, “You’re welcome.”

Sunlight slanted through the kitchen windows, catching the silver tops of the jars of honey and illuminating dancing dust motes in the air. There was light in the world despite the darkness, the sunlight seemed to say.

There was light in the world, and Bobbi was holding onto him.

\---

“Sunset’s coming soon,” Hunter said, setting down his paintbrush.

“I can see that,” Bobbi answered smoothly, not putting her own brush down. They were almost finished painting the window shutters, and their work so far had done a lot to make the inn look more appealing. She didn’t want to stop until they were finished, even if the light was fading.

“Has anyone ever told you it’s okay to take a break?” Hunter asked, sidling over to the window she was painting.

Bobbi huffed. “Yes. I didn’t listen to them.” Maybe it was okay for some of the men in her office to take a break, but things were different for her. They didn’t need to work nearly as hard as she did to prove she belonged there. Taking a break would mean seeming lazy or unmotivated - neither of which she could afford if she wanted to keep moving up in the world.

“Will you listen to me?” Hunter asked. Bobbi paused her painting, but didn’t look at him. If she looked at him she would see his stupid puppy-dog eyes and her resolve would crumble. But she wouldn’t take a break just because a boy asked her to. That was how girls like her got into trouble.

“Let me finish this, okay?”

Hunter didn’t answer, so Bobbi assumed he realized he was fighting a losing battle and was heading home. When she finished the shutter and turned around, though, he was sitting on the first step of the porch, a glass bottle of Coke in his hands. There was another identical bottle beside him, and when he caught her watching he lifted it up towards her. 

Bobbi took the bottle and popped the cap off, taking a seat beside Hunter on the step.

“It really is okay to take a break, you know,” he said after a minute.

“I don’t think you’re really authorized to give advice on that, Mr. I-Have-Ten-Jobs.”

“I don’t have ten jobs,” Hunter answered, entirely missing her point. 

“First time I met Daisy she said you like to keep busy,” Bobbi offered. “Seems to me you spend more time fixing things than you do taking breaks.” Between his house and his beekeeping and fire fighting and his handyman jobs in town, Bobbi was surprised Hunter even knew what a break was.

“I like broken things.” Bobbi turned to look at Hunter, pausing when the sight took her breath away. The setting sun rimmed him in an orangey-gold halo, catching on his hair and his eyelashes and making him look entirely more beautiful than any person had a right to be.

“I can relate.” Bobbi cleared her throat, looking away from Hunter. She couldn’t say what she needed to say when looking into those eyes - or anyone’s eyes, for that matter. “I feel a lot like a broken thing sometimes, you know?” She couldn’t seem to commit to anything, or anyone. She had been told so many times in her life that running away didn’t fix problems, but that was all she ever did. She ran away from New York when that got hard, and as soon as she was done with the inn she was going to run away from Quinshire, too. There had to be something wrong with her, if she wasn’t able to do the normal human thing and _stay_.

Hunter took a long time to answer. “I don’t think you’re broken,” he whispered.

“Guess that’s why you don’t like me then, huh?” Bobbi’s attempt at a joke fell flat and she took a swig of her drink to cool the burn in her cheeks.

“I never said I didn’t like you.” Suddenly there was a hand on her knee, and Bobbi forced herself to look back at Hunter. His gaze was intense, as if he was trying to decide what to do, and Bobbi could relate. She knew what she thought he was saying, but she wasn’t sure if her judgment was clouded by what she wished he would say. But he was so close and his skin was warm on hers and it would be so impossibly easy to kiss him right then.

So she did.

Hunter’s hand on her knee tightened the moment their lips met, and Bobbi’s free hand fluttered before curling around the back of his neck. Hunter’s mouth opened under hers, hesitant but inviting. Bobbi slipped her tongue inside, exploring him. He tasted like the cola they were both drinking and something else - maybe gum? - but it hardly mattered, because his lips were soft and he was more sure of what they were doing than Bobbi ever could have hoped for.

She reached her other hand up to cradle his face and - “Shit!” Bobbi leapt up off the porch, her spilled soda already soaking into her jeans. She had pulled Hunter up with her, and he surveyed the scene forlornly.

“Sorry.”

“What for?” Bobbi asked. It wasn’t his fault she had knocked into her Coke bottle when trying to kiss him.

“Distracting you?” Hunter suggested.

“Hmm.” Bobbi stepped closer to him, winding their fingers together. “Think you could distract me again?”

“I’ll consider it,” Hunter answered, closing the last of the space between them and wrapping his free arm around Bobbi’s waist to keep her close. “If that’s what you want.”

“Yeah,” Bobbi whispered, tipping her head down so her lips were just a breath away from his. “That’s what I want.”


	4. Chapter 4

The knock on the front door of the inn surprised Bobbi. Hunter had a key and no one else came by. There was no reason to visit, not when the inn was still only half-finished. The last person to visit her had been Raina, but Bobbi couldn’t imagine a reason why the other woman would be visiting her again. Unless it was to talk about buying. 

Bobbi had to suppress a groan when it was indeed Raina at the front door. She swept in without invitation, casting her critical eye around the main foyer of the inn. It was mostly finished now - the new drywall had been installed along with new flooring, and she and Hunter had given the place a fresh coat of paint, as well. All they were waiting on was furniture, but they had turned their attention to the guest rooms while they waited for their furniture to ship in from London.

“Bobbi, nice to see you,” Raina said after she finished surveying the area. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“Yes?” Bobbi tried her best to keep the edge of irritation out of her voice.

“Thomas Ward,” Raina said.

Bobbi visibly startled. How did Raina know her ex-boyfriend’s name? “What about him?”

“I have a feeling he wasn’t being entirely honest with either of us.”

“I’m sorry?” Bobbi’s brain still felt three steps behind wherever Raina was. She was speaking like she _knew_ Thomas, which wasn’t possible, unless -

The business trips. The guest room she wasn’t allowed in, even though he hardly ever had any guests. The calls from “clients” that came at strange hours. It couldn’t all be…?

“Thomas Ward was my partner.”

As strange as it was, Bobbi couldn’t find it in herself to feel angry, or even bitter. She hadn’t even thought about Thomas since breaking up with him, if she was honest. Part of that definitely was thanks to one Lance Hunter, but even before she met Hunter, Thomas hadn’t been on her mind. He had been a convenience, someone to keep her bed warm and at least pretend to listen when she talked. She had broken up with him over _text_, for God’s sake - that wasn’t exactly the hallmark of a stellar relationship.

“Oh.” What else could she say? Maybe Raina wanted her to be angry, but judging by the look on the other woman’s face, she had reached the same sort of resigned acceptance as Bobbi had.

“How did you…?” Bobbi trailed off uncertainly.

“I did some digging.” It was a vague answer if Bobbi had ever heard one, but she was mostly grateful she wasn’t subjected to what Raina had _actually_ been digging for. She doubted it was as benign as finding out her ex-boyfriend’s name. Bobbi wouldn’t put it past Raina to try to get her for tax fraud, or anything else to make her incapable of running the Mockingbird.

“Why did you tell me?” Bobbi asked after a long, awkward silence.

“Thomas has visited me in Quinshire more than once. I thought it was best if you found out from me instead of somebody else.” 

That was… surprisingly human of Raina. Bobbi shuddered to think of what would’ve happened if she discovered Thomas’s infidelity from Daisy or Elena. It would’ve been messy, to say the least.

“I assume you two are broken up now?”

“Yes.” Raina nodded sharply, and when Bobbi looked at the shorter woman, she was surprised to find a faint sheen of tears in Raina’s eyes. “I am nobody’s second-best.”

Bobbi didn’t know what else to say. She had broken up with Thomas for reasons entirely unrelated to the cheating, but she could only imagine how difficult it was for Raina to have her love dismantled in one fell swoop.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Raina straightened her shoulders. “I just thought you should know.”

Raina swept out of the room before Bobbi could say anything more, and Bobbi couldn’t help but be thankful the conversation was over - and Raina would probably stay out of her way for a while.

\---

The day after Raina’s revelation, Bobbi and Hunter were back at renovations. The to-do list pinned to the fridge was, for the first time, getting shorter rather than longer, which was equal parts mystifying and terrifying. The bedrooms still had some work to do, mostly rewiring electrical bits and making aesthetic changes, but it was obvious the work on the inn was coming to a close. Bobbi didn’t like to think about it too much, because the day the inn was done also was the day she had to plan her exit from Quinshire. 

“You’re thinking too loud,” Hunter called from across the room. They had already done the electrical work on this room (meaning Hunter had already done the electrical work on this room) and were working on painting it with a brand of non-toxic paint Hunter had discovered while doing a deep dive into Phil’s paint section. Bobbi had thought long and hard about what color to paint each of the rooms - especially the one she had begun to think of as _hers_ but they had agreed together neutral colors were probably best, as much as she and Hunter both hated beige. Neither of them were sure they’d be able to sell the place if they went too bold, which was a sobering thought. Bobbi hated the thought of selling, hated the thought of _leaving_ \- hence the thinking too loud, she supposed.

“Just wondering about the paint color,” Bobbi lied as she dipped her roller into the tray of paint again.

“Don’t tell me you’ve already changed your mind.” Hunter set down his own roller, running the back of his hand over his forehead and leaving a streak of blue-grey paint behind. Bobbi hid a smile when she turned to look at him, wondering if he even realized what he had done. Luckily since the paint was non-toxic Bobbi didn’t have to worry about telling Hunter about the paint on his head for his health.

“No, I haven’t,” she said, resisting the urge to stick her nose in the air. So what if she had changed her mind on the paint six times? It was just because she wanted to have the best possible result. “It just reminds me of something I can’t quite place.” Even if it hadn’t been what she was thinking about in the first place, Bobbi _did_ wonder why the paint color felt so familiar to her.

Hunter cracked a smile, padding across the room to where she was still pretending to paint. She knew better than to keep her roller in her hand when Hunter was advancing on her with that look in his eyes, and she put it down right before he pulled her into a bear hug.

“Have you looked in a mirror lately?” he asked, voice muffled by her hair.

“No?” Bobbi didn’t see how that was relevant.

“It’s the color of your eyes, love.” 

“Is not!” Bobbi insisted, pulling away from Hunter so she could inspect the paint color more closely. A beat passed, and Bobbi furrowed her brow. “My eyes aren’t this grey,” she said finally.

“Not normally,” Hunter murmured, tucking her back into his chest with one deft motion. “But when the lights are low and you’re worrying too much about things you can’t change, they’re darker. Greyer. Still extremely fetching.”

“You spend a lot of time looking at me, huh?” It was intended to be teasing, but instead her voice came out raspy and much too vulnerable for Bobbi’s taste.

“Not nearly as much as I want to,” Hunter whispered, kissing her hair. “I know it’s still early, Bob, but I hope you’ll let me look at you for a long, long time.”

Bobbi’s breath shuddered in her chest, and she pressed her forehead against Hunter’s, belatedly realizing she would now have paint on her head, too. It didn’t seem to matter much, though. She didn’t know what to say to Hunter, now or any other time he talked about how he was feeling. In hindsight, her inability to talk about emotions was one of the reasons she had been able to let go of Thomas so easily - she had never let him get closer than arm’s length.

But she didn’t want to think about Thomas, now or any time she was with Hunter.

“Alright. Back to work before Monsieur Teacup gets impatient and starts scratching at my beautiful new door.”

Bobbi laughed as she stepped away from Hunter again. He didn’t seem bothered by her lack of response to his declaration, which she was thankful for. “We could just let Teacup in,” Bobbi teased as she picked up her roller again.

“If you want to spend another hour outside with the hose, sure.”

“Hey, you with a hose isn’t a bad look.” Bobbi wasn’t going to admit how much she had enjoyed looking at him the first time. He didn’t need the ego stroke.

“By the way, Bob, I think you have a little…” Hunter gestured towards her forehead.

“Where do you think I got it from?”

“Hey!”

Bobbi turned back to her wall before Hunter could get any ideas about her, paint, and a misadventurous pooch.

\---

After visiting Miel so many times, it was strange for Bobbi to go to Elena’s actual home. But when she and Daisy had proposed the idea of the girl’s night, Elena had insisted that her place was the ideal location. Bobbi couldn’t help but agree that the Mockingbird wasn’t up to hosting any guests yet, even for a short while. Daisy’s little cottage would’ve been a fine alternative, but it wasn’t as spacious as Elena’s - and they were all in agreement that Elena had the best snacks, period. Teacup was with Hunter for the night, which meant Bobbi was free to stay as late as she wanted without worrying her dog would destroy something in her absence.

Mack had been exiled - from the sound of it he and Hunter were going to get up to no good together - leaving the three women to sit in Elena’s den, curled up on the couch together. Daisy was in the middle and had a large bowl of popcorn balanced on her lap. There was a bottle of wine they could open later if they wanted, but Bobbi was having a ball taking shots of Coca-Cola every time Elena told a dirty joke in the middle of her monologue about the strangest orders she had received at Miel that day.

When their laughter had died down to a manageable level, Bobbi nudged Daisy with her knee. “So. I was promised the story of how you and Lincoln got your shit together. Spill.”

Daisy’s cheeks flushed a pleasant pink color, and a shy smile crept onto her face. “Okay. So, I’m at the vet’s office -”

“Why were you at the vet’s office?” Elena interrupted. Bobbi had the same question - the closest thing Daisy had to a pet was the praying mantis that had insisted on making home in some of the flowers at the nursery.

“Uh…” Daisy shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth to avoid answering.

“Okay, so you were at the vet’s office to see Lincoln…” Bobbi teased. Daisy chewed frantically, but she couldn’t swallow her popcorn fast enough to make a believable denial of the claim.

“Maybe,” she said, waving her hand vaguely as if to dispel any further questions. “Anyways. I’m at the vet’s office, Lincoln’s just closed the place up. He was boarding some animals overnight because they needed observation, but the night nurse wasn’t there yet. Bobbi, have you met Claire? Claire Temple? She’s pretty cool, she works with Lincoln.”

“I haven’t,” Bobbi said, prodding Daisy again. “Lincoln. Story. Continue.”

“So, we’re in the vet’s office together. I’m trying to gather the nerve to tell him how I feel, because apparently that’s like, a necessary step in relationships? Which is lame. But anyways, I’m _finally_ opening my mouth to tell him I like him, and… a fucking goat barrels into the waiting room.”

“A _what_?”

“You heard me!” Daisy threw a kernel of popcorn at Elena, who caught it in her mouth with a wink. Daisy rolled her eyes before continuing the story. “Anyways, there’s this goat, who Lincoln was watching overnight for some reason, but the damn thing wasn’t sick enough not to figure out how to break out of her cage and come stampeding out! And like, I’m glad she was feeling better or whatever, but this goat was _pissed off_. She was making a ton of noise and running into things and the cat Lincoln keeps in the waiting room cage was freaking out. So, we need to catch the goat.

“I’m running to try and catch the goat, Lincoln’s chasing her everywhere, and this goat is faster than both of us. You can laugh all you want,” Daisy pointed her finger at Elena, then swung around to face Bobbi, who was indeed chuckling, “but goats are a menace. Pigs are smart but at least they’re fat enough they wouldn’t be able to get into much at the office. And sheep are dumb. But anyways, the goat is in the middle of the waiting room, and we both dive to catch her… but she runs away at the last minute and we both end up colliding. He lands on top of me, and I’m looking up into those big blue eyes and -”

“You kissed him!” Elena screeched.

“He kissed you!” Bobbi shouted at the same time.

“We kissed each other,” Daisy declared, a stupid smile taking over her face. “And then we caught the goat. And _then_ we talked about how we both have liked each other for a while and now we’re here.” She ended with a nonchalant shrug, but her sappy grin ruined the effect.

“The perfect end to years of pining,” Elena sighed. “How romantic.”

“How did you and Mack meet?” Bobbi asked curiously.

“He came into the shop. I decided I liked him. I told him so. And we have been together ever since.”

“Sometimes it really is that simple, huh?” 

“Sometimes,” Elena agreed. 

Bobbi plucked more popcorn from the bowl, chewing thoughtfully. Love had never been that easy for her, and she envied Elena for it. She found someone she liked, told him, and made herself a husband. Bobbi was sure there were hardships in between, but the path seemed so simple when she just said it like that. Bobbi’s head dropped to Daisy’s shoulder.

“What about you?” Daisy asked after a while. “And Hunter?”

“What about us?”

“Well, you went from hating his guts to liking him. And in the end you know you’re going to leave him, so…”

A lump formed in Bobbi’s throat.

“You’re still planning on going back to America?” Elena asked, brown eyes boring into Bobbi.

“I mean, yeah.” Bobbi lifted her head up so she could look at Elena, not liking the way the other woman’s gaze held something of an accusation in it. “New York is still my home. I just needed a break from it for a little while.”

“You shouldn’t need a break from home,” Elena said softly. 

“But I do.” Bobbi ignored the lump, swallowing hard around it. “And Hunter… he and I haven’t talked about it, but he has to know where this is going.”

“Isn’t it a little… I don’t know, cruel? To be with him when you know it’s going to end?”

“Is it cruel for us to be friends, then?” Bobbi asked, body tensing. “Was I supposed to just not talk to anyone? Not feel anything? Just get in and get out?” Tears stung at the backs of her eyes. It was too hard to explain that she had never meant to get as attached to Quinshire as she had. It never crossed her mind when she’d come to the little town she would ever _want_ to stay, otherwise she would’ve made contingency plans. It was unfair for Elena and Daisy to be judging her over her feelings when she had never meant for them to get this deep. It would be even more unfair to expect her not to feel at all.

“No.” Daisy reached an arm out to wrap around Bobbi’s shoulders, pulling her back in. “I didn’t mean it like that. I guess I’m just having a hard time with it, too.”

“We’re going to miss you when you’re gone,” Elena added.

_I don’t have to go, _Bobbi wanted to scream. But what was the point, if no one would ever ask her to stay?

\---

Rain was in the forecast, but Bobbi didn’t understand how - the sky was a beautiful robin’s egg blue which matched the outside of her inn, and there wasn’t a single cloud. Bobbi doubted Hunter had looked at the forecast at all, and when she mentioned the possibility of rain, he just grinned at her.

“We both know you wouldn’t mind getting me wet again,” he teased. Bobbi blustered, but really, what could she say? She had sent Hunter in the dunk tank and the sight of him with his shirt soaking wet from the hose and clinging to his skin still popped up in her dreams.

“You’re the worst,” she said as they stepped out of his truck together. Hunter had insisted she needed to see more of Quinshire’s wild side. Unfortunately, the wild side didn’t include clubs or parties - Hunter literally meant the wilderness. Somehow he managed to find time to go hiking between everything else he was tangled up in, and he had wanted to show her his favorite hiking trail.

Bobbi had never dated a man with a favorite hiking trail before.

“Ah, but I am not the one who decided to date me.” Hunter pecked her cheek and Bobbi couldn’t hold back her smile.

“If we’re going by technicalities, this is our first date,” Bobbi pointed out as Hunter led them to the trailhead. 

“Or did we go on more dates together before we realized we were dating?” 

“Definitely not,” Bobbi smirked. “I don’t go on dates with mansplainers.”

“Oi! How many times do I have to say I’m sorry for that?”

“As many times as I ask you to, if you know what’s good for you.”

Hunter whirled around, pulling Bobbi into a surprisingly intense kiss. He was panting when he pulled away, his pupils larger even than the dim lighting of the forest would demand. “You are so _fucking_ hot when you’re bossy.”

Bobbi tugged at his lower lip with her teeth, savoring the tiny whimper it drew from him. “You’d better believe it.”

Hunter kissed her again, his hand straying further down her body. He stopped himself when his palm was on the small of her back, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I suppose I can’t touch your arse, since this is our first date and all.”

“We’re supposed to be _hiking_, Hunter.” Not that she wasn’t enjoying the kissing and touching, but they had plenty of time for it in more appropriate places than the middle of the woods.

He nipped at her neck before taking a step back, eyes lingering on her lips. “Stop being so damn irresistible, then.”

“Would if I could, baby. Would if I could.”

Hunter gave her an exasperated eye roll before turning back to the trail. He began lecturing her on the variety of flora and fauna they encountered along the way. She hadn’t realized ‘naturalist’ was on his long list of professions, but she supposed it made sense for a beekeeper to know at least something about their local ecosystem. It was nice just to listen to Hunter talk - his voice was just as soothing as the creek burbling alongside the trail. Bobbi knew she wasn’t going to retain most of what he was saying, but it felt good to listen to it anyways.

“What do you reckon, Bob? Stop here for lunch or keep going until we reach the other end?”

“What’s on the other end?” Bobbi asked. Hunter hadn’t been forthcoming with the destination of their hike, only insisting she would love where they ended up.

“You’re not going to trick me, Barbara.” He wagged a finger at her like she was a child instead of a grown woman with a healthy amount of curiosity.

“What if I say you can touch my butt?”

“Too little, too late,” Hunter answered, even though the apples of his cheeks were pinker than they had been a moment before. “Answer the question.”

“Let’s keep going.” She wasn’t going to be able to eat if she didn’t have her answer about their destination.

She was glad for the decision when, twenty minutes later, she was standing in front of a lagoon that looked like it belonged in a fairy tale and not real life. A waterfall rushed and crashed in one corner, but the pool of water below was large enough to swim in without being close to the whitewater of the fall. The plants around it were lush and green, and the pebbles on its banks looked like they were purchased from a garden store rather than shaped by nature - perfectly round and smooth.

“Wow,” she breathed, craning her neck upwards. There was a gap in the canopy letting sunlight stream in, and Bobbi was mystified by how the world looked more magical when dappled green and gold.

“Yeah,” Hunter agreed, coming to stand beside her. He slid his fingers through hers and Bobbi squeezed his hand. Him showing her this place felt oddly intimate, and Bobbi wondered if the intimacy had anything to do with how badly she wanted to kiss him. No, she decided. She always wanted to kiss Hunter, whether the sunlight was bringing out flecks of gold in his hazel eyes or not.

She pulled him in close, brushing her lips over his.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispered against his mouth, then kissed him before he could protest to the contrary. She had always seen Lance Hunter was handsome, but every day he was showing her new ways he was _beautiful_, inside and out. 

Bobbi kissed him for what was probably too long, but she couldn’t help it. Every time she tried to be done with him she would breathe him in and realize again how _not_ done with him she was. Everything was soft and blurred around the edges when she was kissing him, and Hunter deserved a softer life.

“Sorry,” she murmured when she was finally sated. “I…” Unsurprisingly, Bobbi couldn’t find words to express how she was feeling. For all the jokes about this being their first date, it felt like so much more. She hadn’t known Hunter for long, but she was certain he knew more about her than anyone back in New York. She had given him more of her than she had given to someone in a long time, because he had _asked_. She just wanted him to ask for a little more. 

“It’s okay,” Hunter answered, brushing a stray strand of hair back from her face. “I don’t ever mind kissing you.”

He smiled at her and Bobbi’s heart skipped a beat. She was really too old to be feeling butterflies in her stomach, but she felt them anyways.

Hunter produced a gingham blanket from his backpack, then a small cooler. Bobbi unpacked the sandwiches and fruit while Hunter continued rummaging through the backpack. She was just about to ask what he was looking for when he produced it - the same parcel of letters he had taken from the Mockingbird at her request.

“I think it was time your curiosity was satisfied, Ms. Morse,” Hunter said as he settled himself on the blanket.

“I whole-heartedly agree, Mr. Hunter.” Bobbi sat across from him, watching as he carefully untied the string of twine he had used to keep the letters together. 

“I’ll have you know, I’ve already looked at the dates on these so I could put them in the proper order. They were all mixed up when I got them. But I haven’t looked at them any more, I promise.”

“On what honor?” Bobbi asked with a smirk as she picked up her sandwich.

“You’re the one who keeps tarnishing my reputation with your inability to resist kissing me.”

“_Tarnishing your reputation_?” Bobbi repeated. “Have we been flung into the nineteenth century?”

“These are from the nineteen-teens, I’ll have you know.” Hunter smoothed out the first letter and laid it on his knee. “Are you ready?”

Bobbi nodded, and let Hunter’s voice take her into the past.

_Dearest Leo,_  
_I hope this letter finds you still safe and whole, my love. I do not know much about this silly war or why you must fight it in it, but I do know my very soul rests on your coming back alive. No one will tell me much of anything, but I asked your mother for this address. She thinks I am writing you as a friend, and I have done nothing to disabuse her of the notion; I wish for us to bring our relationship into the light when you return, but I know how much your treasure your relationship with your mother, and want you to be the one to tell her of our love. I hope to hear from you soon._  
_Love Always,_  
_Your Jemma_

_Jemma,_  
_Thank you for your letter, darling one. I remain whole, though safe I do not know if I can say. We have been deployed to the front lines, but our spirits remain high. I thank you for your discretion regarding my mother - you’re right in assuming I wish to be the one to share our glad news with her. When I come home, I will make an honest woman of you, Jemma. I carry your letters with me, as close to my heart as I dare. You are my light in this darkness, Jemma, and my peace in the storm. I love you._  
_Your Leo_

The letters continued on and on, and the love story they unspooled took Bobbi’s breath away. Jemma and Leo wrote to each other faithfully, never going more than a few weeks without a letter exchanged between them. Bobbi couldn’t imagine it was easy to write so much, especially with one of them in the middle of a war. They had been in love in secret for months before Leo had received the call to serve his country in the first World War. Most of their letters were dreams of what their wedding would look like when Leo returned, interspersed with assurances they were still very much in love despite their time apart.

The last letter was dated several months after its predecessor, and was oddly abrupt. Bobbi couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw tear stains on the paper Hunter was holding.

_Leo,_  
_You still haven’t written back. I worry for you. I have asked your mother if she has any news, but she is just as confused and scared as I am. We wait for you, my love. Please come home._  
_Forever,_  
_Jemma_

“That’s it?” Bobbi asked when Hunter finished reading.

“That’s it,” he answered. “No more letters.”

“But - but -” But it couldn’t end that way! 

Hunter reached his hand out for hers, and when she took it, squeezed her fingers gently. “It’s over, Bob. No matter what happened to them, they’re both probably dead by now anyways.”

“But I want to know,” Bobbi pouted, scooting across the blanket so she could rest her head on Hunter’s shoulder. “I just want there to be a happy ending.”

“For all you know there is one. The reason Leo never wrote back is because he came home and told her everything he wanted to say in person.”

“Or it could be because he was dead!”

“We can’t know either way.” Hunter pressed a kiss against her temple. “Not without digging deeper, at least.”

Bobbi sighed. As much as she wished to know more, it seemed like an impossible task. None of the letters had any surnames attached - it was always just Jemma and Leo. Even if she managed to find more information, Bobbi wasn’t sure she’d have time to go looking further… not before she left Quinshire.

She blinked the thought away and buried herself deeper in Hunter’s shoulder. He raked his hands through her hair soothingly as she breathed him in. After a moment, Bobbi had composed herself enough to look Hunter in the eye.

“I much prefer happy endings.”

“Me too, love.” He brushed a soft kiss across her mouth. “But the only endings we can control are our own.”

The comment felt too appropriate to be coincidental, but Bobbi didn’t want to ask Hunter any more questions. She was too afraid of the answers she would get.

“Want to go for a swim?” she asked, nodding towards the lagoon.

“The water will be cold,” Hunter warned.

“Guess it’s a good thing I have you to keep me warm, then.” Bobbi grinned at him as she stood up and set off towards the water - though not without discarding some of her clothes first. Hunter laughed as he followed her, and it didn’t take long for Bobbi to forget her sadness with Hunter beside her.


	5. Chapter 5

For the first time in her life, Bobbi Morse was eating breakfast in bed. Specifically, she was eating breakfast in Hunter’s bed. It wasn’t an experience she had ever imagined for herself, but she could understand the appeal if every breakfast in bed was delivered by an attractive, shirtless Brit.

“Good morning,” Hunter greeted as he set the tray on her lap. “You sleep okay?”

Bobbi smiled shyly up at him. “Yeah.” It was the first time she had shared a bed with someone other than Thomas in years, but it was surprisingly easy to adjust to - not in the least because she had been tired after hiking, swimming, and other activities of the day previous. “Is all this for me?”

“It is,” Hunter answered as he slid back into bed beside her. “I realized I didn’t know what you liked other than the honey-yogurt thing Elena makes, so I just…”

“Made everything?” Bobbi finished, smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I just know how to treat a lady.” 

“So I’m a lady now? Because last night -”

“It was supposed to be a compliment!”

“Baby, I’m sorry, but there is no way you can convince me _hellbeast_ is a compliment.” Damn Hunter and his pouting face. All Bobbi wanted to do was kiss him - so she did. 

“I must not be doing too bad if I get called baby and get a kiss,” Hunter mumbled, chasing her when she tried to pull back. When he had gotten as thorough of a kiss as he wanted, he rested his forehead against hers. “I won’t call you hellbeast again.”

“No, I think you should.” Bobbi pecked him gently. “See what happens.”

“That sounds like a threat.”

“Does it?” Bobbi hummed, turning back to her tray of food. Hunter had been doing an admirable job of not knocking it over while simultaneously trying to climb into her lap. He had settled instead for pressing his body against the length of hers, peppering small kisses against her neck and shoulder as he waited for her to begin eating.

“Did you really fry bacon shirtless?” Bobbi asked, frowning as she inspected the plate. She wasn’t complaining about the shirtlessness, but the danger to Hunter she had a problem with.

“Uh… yes?” 

“Shouldn’t you, the literal fire chief, know that’s dangerous? Popping grease, ouch ouch burn burn?”

“I elected to ignore the danger so you could keep sleeping.” Hunter nibbled at the shell of her ear, and Bobbi swatted at him. He wasn’t going to distract her out of being angry.

“No risking your health and safety for me,” she said, turning to cup his cheek in her palm. “It’s bad enough I have to think about you running into burning buildings.” Bobbi had pointedly avoided pondering anything catching on fire. It was easier to believe nothing would be on fire today, with the light pitter-patter of rain falling on the window, but she knew someday she was going to have to accept her boyfriend was the volunteer fire chief, for better or for worse.

Hunter tangled his fingers through hers, angling his face so he could kiss her palm. “Yes ma’am.”

He didn’t let go of her hand, leaving Bobbi only one hand to eat with. It wasn’t much of a problem as she worked through the yogurt and grapefruit on her plate, and even when she got to the bacon, Bobbi was fine.

“Open,” she said, jabbing a piece of bacon against Hunter’s lips.

“But -” The moment Hunter opened his mouth Bobbi stuck the bacon in, and he glared at her as he chewed. “It’s supposed to be for you,” he grumbled after he swallowed.

“And I am sharing it with you,” Bobbi said, rolling her eyes. “You didn’t risk life and limb not to be able to taste any of your bacon.”

“I didn’t risk life and limb, Bob!”

“You risked your rippling pecs and -”

“If you finish that sentence again I’m taking back my promise not to call you a hellbeast.”

“What? Do you not appreciate my description of your muscles?” Bobbi had abandoned her bacon, instead smoothing her hand up Hunter’s stomach and to his chest.

“Somehow I don’t think you meant it genuinely.” Hunter’s voice deepened, and he nipped none-too-gently at her ear. Bobbi swallowed hard.

“You have any plans for later?” 

“Not unless a certain beautiful blonde needs me,” he rumbled. His hands were wandering and Bobbi wanted nothing more than to let them, but…

“I need to go feed the dog,” she said, pushing him back gently. “Though I could be persuaded to accept some help.”

“At least finish breakfast?”

“Fine.” It wasn’t like it was a hardship to spend a little more time lingering with Hunter. Bobbi turned back to her plate, and poked at the crepe-looking things in the corner.

“What are these?” They didn’t look quite like crepes, though Bobbi had to admit she’d only eaten the Americanized version of the French food. Those involved more Nutella than was probably healthy for one person to consume at a time. These maybe-crepes were naked.

“They’re pancakes,” Hunter answered slowly, as if he was talking to a small child. “You don’t have those in America?”

“No, we do. They’re just… different.” Thicker and fluffier for one thing. Bobbi cut a bite out of one of the weird pancakes and chewed it thoughtfully. Not bad, but like she said - different.

“Are you going to live? Or are you going to have to fly back to America immediately?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“If you wanted to go back to the states earlier, now you have an excuse. That’s all I meant.” The mirth was gone from Hunter’s voice, and Bobbi had a feeling they had just entered dangerous waters.

“You think I’m just looking for excuses to leave?”

“It’s not like you’re looking for reasons to stay!”

Bobbi’s hands shook as she removed the tray from her lap, setting it on the bedside table. She couldn’t look at Hunter. _Not looking for reasons to stay?_ That was all she was doing, but there was no use in staying in a place she wasn’t wanted. There was no use in staying in a relationship where the other party believed she was just waiting to make her escape.

She stood silently, shuffling across the floor until she found her discarded shirt and jeans. Her socks were somewhere, too, but they weren’t necessary. Hunter watched her collect her things without saying a word.

“I’m going to go,” she announced as she jammed her feet into her shoes.

“Bob -”

“This was a bad idea, Hunter,” she said, cutting off whatever excuse he was going to make. “You’re right. I’m leaving, and it was a mistake to kiss you, or… do any of this.” Bobbi blinked against the tears blurring her vision. Daisy’s comment about it being cruel for her to lead Hunter on came rushing back. The road to hell was paved with good intentions, everyone said, and Bobbi was going to stop laying down paving stones before she got herself into even more trouble than she already was.

“Bobbi -”

“It’s over, Hunter. Just accept that and we can move on with our lives.”

“You mean _you_ can move on with your life without -!”

Bobbi ducked out of the bedroom before she could hear the way his sentence ended, hurrying through the front room and out the door.

She managed to make it back to the Mockingbird before the tears began to fall. Teacup found her sitting on her bed, knees curled into her chest. Her dog leapt onto the bed beside, sticking his muzzle into the circle of her arms and nosing at her face. 

She was being ridiculous. She was a grown-ass woman and her _dog_ was comforting her like she was a teenager in a cheesy movie. Even the self-loathing couldn’t keep her from pulling Teacup closer to her, burying her face in the dog’s fur as the tears continued to fall.

The worst part of it all? Even the dog reminded her what she walked away from.

\---

Bobbi didn’t expect Hunter to show up for work the next day, but right at nine the door to the Mockingbird opened, revealing her… her…

Well, Hunter was there. 

He walked past her without even acknowledging her presence, returning to the project he had abandoned in one of the bedrooms before the weekend started. Bobbi hesitated. She wanted to talk to him, wanted to explain herself.

The thing about being emotionally illiterate was that Bobbi had no idea how to say what was lodged in her chest. She was running away from Quinshire because it was the best thing to ever happen to her and good things in her life never, ever lasted. And if they did last it was because they weren’t as good as they seemed. It was easier to leave before she got disappointed. But _saying_ that made her sound like… it made her sound like exactly who she was. Someone who feared intimacy, who had been taught her whole life to keep people far, far away from her and her heart.

And Hunter… Hunter wouldn’t _like_ that person. He seemed to have this illusion of her as someone who was good, who was worth fighting for. No matter how the apology went, the end result would be the same: she wouldn’t have him. The illusion would be shattered and she would be alone and her moving back to New York would be a blessing for all involved.

Maybe it was better this way, Bobbi thought as she began unpacking the pieces of a bookcase that would be placed in the foyer. Clean breaks were always easier.

\---

Bobbi was in desperate need of an excuse to get out of the Mockingbird, and the best one she could think of was purchasing some herbs. Having a windowsill herb garden definitely fit with their eco-friendly aesthetic, and it gave Bobbi a mini project she could plan entirely without the input of Hunter, who was still ignoring her. The past week had felt longer than the two months previous, filled with stony silence and a business partner who left the room every time she entered it.

The nursery was empty, since it was the middle of a work day and everyone else had better things to do than ponder whether thyme or oregano was a better windowsill plant.

“Hey.” Daisy was much more subdued than usual when she appeared at Bobbi’s shoulder.

“Hi.” Bobbi swallowed hard and went back to pondering plants. She hadn’t been in much of a talking mood since she and Hunter had broken up. She hadn’t even told anyone about it, but judging by Daisy’s attitude, Hunter had told her. Elena probably knew, too, come to think of it.

“Can we talk?”

“Are you going to try to change my mind?”

“No, I’m going to _talk_ to my _friend_ who just went through a breakup with a guy who is by all accounts perfect for her.”

“Obviously he wasn’t perfect or we wouldn’t have broken up.” Bobbi’s voice cracked on the word _broken_, and tears flooded her eyes.

“Come with me.” Daisy wrapped her hand around Bobbi’s elbow and steered her into the nursery’s office building. Daisy’s office was the largest of the three rooms, and had a functioning door, which couldn’t be said for the other two.

Daisy locked the door behind them and waved Bobbi into the seat in front of the desk. She perched herself on top of the desk instead of behind it, and Bobbi made every effort not to look her friend in the eye.

“You know I broke up with him, right? He told you that?”

“Yeah, he did.” Daisy kicked her legs idly. “Don’t know what that has to do with this.”

“Because I’m not supposed to be upset about it!”

“But obviously you are.”

Bobbi opened her mouth to deny it, but Daisy wouldn’t believe her. “He thought I wanted to leave him.”

“Not to sound harsh, but you haven’t been shy about telling everyone your plan was to go back to New York, even after you two started going out.”

“I thought he understood…” Bobbi sighed. There were a lot of things she thought people understood, but evidently things weren’t as clearcut as they originally seemed.

“Okay, break it down for me. Because this isn’t adding up for me either, Bobbi. It seems like you want to go back to where you came from, but you don’t want any of your relationships here to end. And that doesn’t make sense. I promise I’m not trying to attack you or anything, but I want this to make sense, too. For you and Hunter, sure, but also for us. I don’t want to lose you.” Bobbi finally looked up to see Daisy staring at her with pleading eyes.

“I don’t want to go back to New York,” she admitted quietly. “But there doesn’t seem to be a point in staying here, either.”

“Why not?”

“Because nobody wants me to!” Bobbi burst out. “You all just talk about me leaving like it’s going to be the end of everything. Cell phones, email, Skype - we have all this shit and all anyone’s saying is that they’ll miss me like there’s no hope for us at all! And it’s like… if you don’t care enough to even _try_ when I’m gone, then am I just liked because I’m convenient? Because I’m easy?”

Raina’s words rang in Bobbi’s ears. _I am nobody’s second best._ And wasn’t that everything she was to the people of Quinshire? Someone to have a fun time with, but wasn’t worth asking to stay? _Second best?_

“At least in New York no one pretends to care.” Bobbi asked, looking down at her hands. “Why the fuck would I stay in Quinshire when no one’s even asked me to?”

Blood rushed through Bobbi’s ears, deafening her temporarily as her heart pounded and pounded while she waited for a response. The seconds stretched out until finally, Daisy spoke.

“Are you _kidding _me?” Bobbi flinched at the barely-concealed anger in Daisy’s words. “The reason nobody asked you to stay wasn’t because we don’t care about you, idiot! It’s because we want you to be happy, and we don’t want you to feel guilted into staying someplace you don’t want to be! Even Hunter - you know what, forget Hunter. I’m asking you, right here, right now. Bobbi, will you please stay? For me?”

The dam Bobbi had so carefully constructed broke. Tears streamed down her face, hot and fast. She had no hope of wiping them all away - as soon as she dried her cheeks they were wet again. Her chest felt like it was crumpling in on itself, squeezing out ragged sobs from her slowly-deflating lungs. The ache in her heart transformed into a twisting, stabbing pain. 

For the first time in her life, she was really _wanted_. She couldn’t speak but she nodded her answer to Daisy’s question, bobbing her head up and down so frantically tears were whipped off her face.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Daisy said, passing Bobbi a tissue. She sat on the arm of Bobbi’s chair, slinging an arm around Bobbi’s shoulder. “We want you here. It’s where you belong, okay? And I’m sorry we couldn’t tell you this sooner and save us all the heartache.” She squeezed Bobbi as close as she could with the awkward angle. “We’re going to need to talk about the whole emotions thing, but God knows you’re not the only one in this town with oodles of baggage.”

A whimper escaped Bobbi before she could stop it. Hunter was no doubt on that list of people with baggage, and she had just ignored it all in favor of being a self-centered idiot.

“Yeah,” Daisy said, rubbing her hand up and down Bobbi’s arm. “This doesn’t mean everything is fixed, but I think you know that.”

“I’m sorry.” Bobbi’s voice rasped against the dryness of her throat.

“I don’t think I’m the one you really want to apologize to, at least not about this. Though I will take an apology for being dumb whenever you’re ready to give it.”

“I was dumb, and I’m sorry,” Bobbi repeated promptly. “I…” She didn’t have a good end to her sentence.

“I know. I’ve been there, before Quinshire became home. Trust me when I say I get it.” Daisy patted Bobbi’s arm once before releasing her hold. “I’ll give you some time alone to get yourself together, but I should get back out there.”

Bobbi nodded, grateful for the sanctuary. She couldn’t think about this stuff in the Mockingbird, not with Hunter waiting right around the corner. Like Daisy said, she probably owed him an apology, and a big one. Now it seemed obvious if she asked him to ask her to say, he’d do it without hesitation. Hunter had been willing to do a lot more for her than say a few simple words.

The question of whether or not he would still want her remained, knowing what he knew now. She would cross that bridge when she got there, though. For just a moment, Bobbi wanted to bask in Daisy’s words, and the knowledge she was going to stay.

\---

“This is it.”

Bobbi whipped around to find Hunter standing in the doorway. He hadn’t said anything to her before this moment, not since the breakup, so hearing his voice again was strange but not unwelcome.

“What?”

“We’ve done everything.” Hunter strode over to the fridge and removed the to-do list there, handing it to Bobbi. Every item was crossed off neatly, even the ones scrawled in the margins. Bobbi flipped the piece of paper over, but the tasks on the back were crossed off, too. They had finished absolutely everything they had set out to do on the Mockingbird, from gutting it to rebuilding it from the ground up with a more sustainable twist. They were finished, which meant the only thing left to do was an open house to get the place sold.

“Wow.” Bobbi turned the list over in her hands again, willing something else to turn up so she didn’t have to let go. 

“We’ve shed the last of our blood, sweat, and tears,” Hunter said, leaning against the kitchen counter nonchalantly. 

“Don’t think I’m done with the tears,” Bobbi murmured, hoping she was too quiet for Hunter to hear. Judging by the faint smile pulling on the corners of her lips, she hadn’t succeeded.

“There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about,” Bobbi said, laying the list on the counter so she could shove her hands deep in her pockets. “About us.”

“I don’t want to hear it, Bob.” Hunter straightened, pushing himself away from the counter. “You made what you wanted abundantly clear and I’m not going to - not going to _mansplain_ what you should do.”

_I’m not leaving. _The words stuck in Bobbi’s throat, even as Hunter walked away. By the time the front door to the Mockingbird was closed behind him, Bobbi was convinced something in the universe had it out for her. Of all the times for her voice to fail, it had to be the one time it mattered most? The words shouldn’t have been difficult to say, but they were. Hunter was right to be hurt, and to object to pouring more salt on his wounds with any conversation they could have about their relationship. He had no way of knowing she was going to give him good news - or at least, what she hoped was good news.

Bobbi sighed, then retrieved a pencil from behind her ear so she could add one last item to the to-do list.

_Tell Hunter the truth._

Melodramatic? Yes. 

Necessary? Definitely.

\---

It was finally the day of the open house - the day Bobbi had been waiting for, and then dreading. Now she just felt… empty. Showing off all the work she and Hunter had done, just to give it all away to someone who wouldn’t care about the Mockingbird half as much as they did, felt masochistic. A part of her insisted she should just bite the bullet and not sell at all. But if she got a decent enough offer, she could… what? Make a business of flipping inns? It didn’t matter how much money it was, in the end. Bobbi wanted to stay in Quinshire, and the easiest way to stay was give herself another anchor there. People wanting her to stick around was fantastic, but a brick-and-mortar (or rather, wood-and-more-wood) tether would be just as helpful.

Bobbi didn’t feel like herself, wearing a pencil skirt and blouse. It was an outfit she had worn every day when she was in New York, but after spending the last few months in ratty jeans and rattier tees, it felt too constricting, like she couldn’t breathe right. Or maybe her not breathing right was because Hunter was still avoiding her.

A cluster of people were milling out on the Mockingbird’s front lawn. Most of them were Quinshire’s residents - Mack and Elena had offered catering, Daisy and Lincoln were watching Teacup (and raving about how animal-friendly the inn was), Phil and his wife Melinda were inspecting all of Hunter’s carpentry work. There were a few people from out-of-town who had heard about the open house, though, including…

“Ian Quinn?” Bobbi asked, brow furrowing. She had no idea why her ex-supervisor was in Quinshire, England of all places - and looking at her inn.

“Bobbi Morse,” he said, grinning at her and going in for a hug like he _hadn’t_ been the bane of her existence when they were in New York. Bobbi tensed but didn’t have enough time to duck away from Ian’s arms. He held onto her an unnecessarily long time, and by the end of the hug Bobbi wished nothing more than for Hunter to still be her boyfriend, if only so she could introduce him and stop Ian from looking at her like a cut of meat.

“I didn’t know you were interested in real estate,” Bobbi forced out. 

“New venture. Project management just wasn’t doing it for me anymore, you know?”

So Ian hadn’t been able to get a new job after Reality Architecture had gone bankrupt - at least, that was what Bobbi got out of his statement.

“Well, I’m sure my business partner would be happy to give you a tour of the place,” Bobbi said, frantically searching for Hunter in the crowd. She could _not_ stand having to be with Ian for the twenty minute property tour. She just couldn’t.

Another thing making it difficult for Bobbi to breathe: Hunter was wearing a _suit_. An obviously-tailored suit she wished she’d seen a long while ago, because it highlighted everything attractive about Hunter’s body. His shoulders appeared broader and the strong lines of his hands could be on display without the distraction of his well-muscled forearms and -

Okay, so maybe Bobbi just found everything about Hunter attractive no matter what he was wearing. But the suit was a _suit_ and she had eyes!

Luckily he had noticed her looking at him and mistook the blatant ogling for a command to join her, and had made his way over to her and Ian.

“Ian, this is my business partner, Lance Hunter. Hunter, a friend from New York, Ian Quinn. He’s interested in buying.”

Bobbi didn’t miss the steel in Hunter’s eyes when she mentioned New York, but Ian didn’t notice or didn’t care. He was obviously sizing Hunter up, and Bobbi sighed. Men.

“Bobbi? A word?” Raina said, tapping Bobbi’s elbow.

She turned away from the men, grateful for the distraction. Raina separated them from Hunter and Ian by a few more steps before speaking again.

“I know I can’t offer the same price as some of the others, but I _promise _ you, I understand what it means to love a home, and I -”

“We’re not selling.” The words spilled out before Bobbi could stop them, and she clacked her jaw shut. She couldn’t make that decision unilaterally, not when it affected Hunter, too. She turned, intending to call Hunter over so they could have an actual, proper talk. He had already disappeared into the Mockingbird with Ian, though, which meant talking would have to wait at least until he got out.

“I’m sorry, Raina, but I need to talk to Hunter. This whole thing is… is wrong.” She tried to give the other woman an apologetic smile, but it felt forced.

Waiting for Hunter to come out of the Mockingbird again was agonizing. It wasn’t as long of a wait as she expected, though - somehow Hunter had made a twenty minute tour only take ten minutes. Ian did have that effect on people. 

“Hunter!” Bobbi beckoned him over to her. He didn’t look happy as he half-jogged to where she was standing. Raina had long since abandoned her to go freshen up, which Bobbi took to meant Raina was taking the loss of the Mockingbird hard. She couldn’t dwell on that, though - she had a declaration of love to make.

“What’s up?” Hunter asked, looking anywhere except for her face.

“I -”

The pager on Hunter’s belt beeped, followed by a chorus of chimes from others in the crowd. Everyone, in fact, who was a member of the volunteer fire department. Hunter unclipped his pager, squinting at the screen against the bright sunlight.

“Whatever it is will have to wait,” he said, already stripping off his suit jacket, which he threw carelessly onto the grass. “Orchid Lane is on fire.”


	6. Chapter 6

As soon as the news about the fire at Orchid Lane broke, Bobbi had ushered a distraught Raina into her car and began the drive to the other bed and breakfast. Bobbi could see before they even pulled up it was worse than they had thought. 

She had imagined _on fire_ meant a room had caught, and maybe they’d be able to see smoke coming out of one of the windows. She hadn’t imagined there would be a literal column of flame rising into the sky, and smoke so dark and beacon-like she would have been able to navigate to Orchid Lane by it alone.

Raina practically threw herself out of the passenger seat when Bobbi brought her car to a stop at the edge of the property. The fire truck was already there, and Bobbi saw Mack heaving the hose so the volunteer firefighters could better maneuver around the fire.

Bobbi felt like she was watching a movie. Things like this didn’t happen in real life. Things like this didn’t happen to people she knew. People she cared about. Because, as much as Raina sometimes annoyed her, she wasn’t a bad person - she was just passionate about her inn in a way Bobbi was only beginning to understand.

(A niggling voice in the back of her head told her even without Orchid Lane catching on fire, things like this did happen in real life, to people she knew. Hunter had watched his life catch fire before.)

“There’s still someone inside!”

Bobbi’s blood ran cold when she heard Daisy call out those words, and her temperature dropped a few degrees more when she recognized the figure stampeding through the front door, off to the rescue. Even covered head-to-toe in firefighting gear she would recognize Hunter anywhere, and of _course_ he would be the one to run head-first into flames to save someone. Because that was Hunter - brave and selfless to a fault. And, Bobbi added, trying to prove something to himself. He wanted to - no, needed to - prove he could save someone. He hadn’t been able to save Izzy, but maybe he’d be able to save the guest still inside Orchid Lane.

Or maybe he wouldn’t, and he’d lose his life in the process. Bobbi’s stomach churned and she tried not to focus too hard on what it would be like to lose Hunter now. Losing him as her boyfriend had been hard enough, even when she had convinced herself it wasn’t permanent. Death was permanent, though - something Hunter knew all too well.

“I need to go in,” Raina said after a tense minute of silence. “I need to go in!” she repeated, as if it would somehow make the idea any less insane.

Bobbi wasn’t expecting the other woman to actually start towards the burning building, and she grabbed Raina’s arm before she could make it more than a step.

“You’ll just get in the way.” It pained Bobbi to have to say something so callous, but she was hoping it would keep Raina at bay. If she thought her inaction would increase the chances of Orchid Lane being saved, she might be more likely to hang back.

“But - but…” Raina clutched at her chest, struggling to breathe. “Everything I have is in there. My pictures of my parents…”

“I know,” Bobbi said, pulling Raina closer to her side. “I know, but you need to stay safe.” If anyone had told her three months ago she was going to be Raina’s keeper, Bobbi would have laughed, but now she was taking the job quite seriously. She couldn’t do anything to help fight the roaring flames or calm the chattering crowd, but she could keep Raina from breaking down completely.

A loud groaning filled the air, and horror raced through her when Bobbi realized the sound was coming from the building in front of her. Not even fifteen seconds after that realization, an entire section of the hotel shuddered and collapsed, sending up a shower of embers and a puff of ash.

Bobbi’s throat began to close. _It wasn’t the fire that got her, exactly. A beam was weak, and it collapsed, and…_

Hunter couldn’t be in that wing of the building. He couldn’t, because that would mean… Bobbi couldn’t even think the words, she was so horrified by them. 

Raina let out another cry, and Bobbi nudged her back a few steps, away from the worst of the crowd. It was already bad enough to have to watch her livelihood be destroyed; Raina didn’t need the pitying gazes or the hollow attempts of comfort the people in the crowd would try to give her.

For her part, Bobbi didn’t say anything - just let Raina continue to clutch at her while they waited in silence to see whether the firefighters would be able to save anything.

Then, Bobbi’s heart stopped.

_Hunter._

He had someone slung over his shoulder, and the paramedics quickly gathered around to take care of the guest who had been inside Orchid Lane when it had gone up in flames. Bobbi didn’t see who it was over the heads of the crowd, but even if she had been able to see overtop everyone, that wasn’t where her attention was focused. She was looking for Hunter. 

“Go.” Bobbi didn’t know when Elena had appeared, but it didn’t matter. There was someone else to look after Raina, which meant -

She lurched forward a step, towards Hunter. He had taken his helmet off and she could see his eyes searching through the crowd, and Bobbi paused as she wondered what he was looking for. She had been so caught up in her needing to see him that she hadn’t even stopped to consider he obviously didn’t want to see her. He had made it clear they were over and he didn’t want to see her any more than he had to.

Right now, he didn’t have to see her.

But she had to see him.

Bobbi moved forward again, fighting her way closer to Hunter. People were shouting questions at him, all blurred together so no individual words could be picked out of the din. When it became obvious he wouldn’t answer, they quieted down. With a more placid crowd, it was easier for Bobbi to elbow her way to the front.

When she finally got there, she found herself slightly disoriented, still looking around wildly for Hunter.

Her eyes locked onto his.

Her heart stopped.

The world seemed to move in slow motion. Hunter blinked at her, and she blinked at him. This was the moment where they both had a choice - to stay, or to run away. He seemed to realize it at the same time she did, a tiny furrow forming on his brow.

He was worried she was going to run, just like she always had. 

She would just have to prove him wrong.

Time snapped back to its normal speed and Bobbi dashed the last few steps between her and Hunter. He caught her when she flung herself into his arms, wrapping her up tight. The fabric of his uniform was rough and he smelled like sweat and smoke in the most unpleasant way, but he was alive and he was holding her and she never, ever wanted him to let go.

“You scared me,” Bobbi choked as she carded her fingers through his sweat-damp hair. 

“I’m sorry,” Hunter croaked, voice rough. “I had to.”

“I know, I know,” Bobbi said, hushing him. “I know, I know.” Her voice broke on the last word and she squeezed him tighter, trying desperately to catch her breath. “I’m never going to keep you from what you have to do, Hunter. Ever.” Even if he terrified her, this was what he wanted, and she wouldn’t keep him from that. He was the reason the flames around them were dying down - it was because of him anything would be able to be salvaged from Orchid Lane at all. Not only was firefighting what Hunter wanted, it was something he was _good_ at, and it was something that helped people, and what sort of person, what sort of partner, would she be if she kept him from that because of her own fear?

“Bobbi…” 

“I’m staying,” she whispered, belatedly realizing how strange her statement must have seemed without that knowledge. “I don’t want to sell the Mockingbird, I’m staying in Quinshire, I -” _I’m staying with you_, she wanted to say. But even if Hunter was holding her close, it didn’t mean all was forgiven. It didn’t mean he wanted to be with her, it didn’t mean anything except she ran to him and he had let her.

“Can I kiss you?”

So maybe it did mean more than that.

“Yes,” Bobbi breathed. “Please, yes.”

Hunter’s mouth slotted against hers, and it hardly mattered his lips were rough and dry and he tasted like ashes because he was hers again. He was hers and she was his and he had wanted to kiss her! Bobbi’s head was spinning by the time he drew back from her, and she was certain Hunter saw her giddiness in her smile.

It felt a little wrong, to be grinning when Orchid Lane was still burning, but Bobbi couldn’t help it. She had Hunter back.

“You should…” She gestured towards the firefighters. She had kept him for too long already.

“I should.” Hunter leaned forward, brushing the tip of his nose against hers. “Wait for me, will you?”

Bobbi nodded. For Hunter, she would stay.

\---

Bobbi could get used to waking up like this - tucked into Hunter’s side, his arms around her. She wasn’t normally the cuddling type; it made her feel trapped, to wake up in someone else’s arms with no hope of escape until the other person woke up. But here and now, with Hunter… it didn’t feel like being trapped. It felt like being held by the person she loved, and who she had come too close to losing.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Hunter rumbled.

“I’m not the sleepyhead,” Bobbi protested weakly, cuddling closer to him. His chest was bare and his skin soft as silk, perfect for rubbing her cheek against like a contented cat. “You’re the sleepyhead.” She was unused to having her partner wake up before her - which was another point in the ‘not trapped’ column. She wouldn’t ever have to wait for Hunter to wake up to make her great escape, if she ever wanted to escape in the first place.

“Sure I am.” Hunter kissed her neck and Bobbi squirmed when he found a sensitive spot there. He chuckled, the sound dripping down her throat and settling like warm honey in her stomach. “That’s why I’ve been waiting for you for the last hour.”

“You could’ve gotten up.” Not that she would’ve enjoyed waking up to an empty bed, but Bobbi didn’t want Hunter to wait on her account.

“And miss the chance to watch you sleep? No, thanks.”

“You’re the only person who can make watching someone sleep sound cute instead of creepy.” 

“I’m glad.” Hunter walked his fingers down her arm until his hand was holding hers. “You’re so peaceful when you sleep. Not worrying about things you can’t change.”

“I’m trying to get better at that when I’m awake, too, you know.”

“I know.” He squeezed her hand. “We’ve got a long time to teach you.”

Bobbi didn’t like thinking about forever - it seemed like such a long time - but _forever_ was the first thing she thought when Hunter said they had a long time. She wasn’t moving back to New York, and she had a place in Quinshire, both literally and figuratively. 

“You’re thinking too hard.” Hunter dropped another quick kiss on her neck. Bobbi grumbled, turning her face towards him so he could kiss her properly. He wasted no time in fitting their lips together or teasing open her mouth with his tongue. Bobbi clutched at Hunter’s hand, her anchor in the heady rush of pleasure spilling over her.

Their kiss continued, then fractured apart into several smaller, shorter kisses. Hunter rolled so he was mostly on top of her, and Bobbi took great pleasure in pulling him back down to her every time he drew back to catch his breath.

“Still thinking too hard?” Hunter asked after they had been lost in each other for a few minutes. He had that stupid, smarmy smirk on his face, and Bobbi huffed before drawing him down to kiss the look right off him. She could feel him smiling against her lips, though, and it was awfully hard to stay angry at him.

“Better than not thinking at all like a certain man I know,” she rejoined.

Hunter laughed. “You wound me, Barbara.”

Bobbi just hummed, reaching up for one last closed-mouth kiss. Hunter granted it before sitting back on his heels, the ghost of a smile on his face.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Wait!” But Hunter had already jumped off the bed and disappeared out of the bedroom. Bobbi rolled over to where he had been sleeping, burying her face in his pillow. It smelled like his shampoo, and still a little like smoke. She focused on the former instead of the latter, taking a deep, steadying breath. Realistically, she could’ve gotten up and followed Hunter, but she was still tired and he _had_ said he’d be right back…

“Already missing me, I see.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Bobbi muttered, not removing her face from his pillow.

“But you like me.” 

“I do.” Bobbi rolled back into her own place in bed so Hunter could sit down. It was only when he was settled that Bobbi realized he was holding what could’ve easily been half a book’s worth of papers.

“I got these from the town archives,” Hunter explained as he began spreading papers out on his lap. “I thought maybe you’d appreciate knowing what happened to Fitz and Jemma.”

Bobbi perked up, shoving herself up into a sitting position, though she still leaned her head against Hunter’s shoulder. He continued flipping through the papers until he found the one he wanted.

He showed it to her, and Bobbi’s face fell.

“A death certificate?” she whispered.

“Leopold Fitz died in the trenches. He was awarded a medal of valor posthumously - apparently he gave his life to save his friends.”

Bobbi frowned. “What an awful end to a love story.” 

“But that’s not the end. Not for Jemma, at least.” 

Bobbi set aside the death certificate as Hunter handed her another sheet of paper - this one, a marriage record. It was dated almost five years after Fitz’s death certificate; Jemma had obviously taken time to mourn before finding someone else. But she had married a man called Will Daniels in the little church on Main Street. Bobbi had never been there, but Elena had mentioned once it had beautiful stained glass windows. 

“There’s a newspaper article about their wedding. It was a big deal, you see - he was an American who was new to town. No one thought he’d stay.”

Bobbi barely glanced at the picture of Jemma and Will that had been printed in the newspaper. She was too focused on Hunter’s words. _No one thought he’d stay._ She had a feeling he hadn’t chosen to say that on accident, but Bobbi didn’t want to risk looking over. She couldn’t cry while holding precious historical documents, and she was sure she _would_ cry if she looked over and saw Hunter with that soft look on his face he only ever seemed to wear when he was looking at her.

“They had three children together,” Hunter continued, handing over more papers. Bobbi was glad for the distraction to keep her from focusing on the stinging in her eyes. “Their oldest was named Leo. Their second son was Michael. And then, their third child and only daughter - Margaret.” 

Bobbi was most interested in baby Leo’s birth certificate. She traced his name with the tip of her index finger, the corners of her mouth quirking upwards. Jemma hadn’t forgotten her first love, and it seemed her husband had encouraged her to remember Leopold, too. He must have been a good man, Bobbi thought, to allow his son to be named after his wife’s ex-lover.

“That’s nice… but how did the letters get into the wall?” Bobbi asked. 

“That’s where things get interesting, actually.” She chanced a look over at Hunter, and he was grinning. It was a different expression than Bobbi had seen on him before, though - not his self-assured smirk or even his teasing smile she had come to love. It was… softer, somehow, and more triumphant. Like he had figured out a puzzle.

“Margaret enlisted in the British armed forces when World War II came around. There she met her husband, Steve Carter.” Hunter handed her another marriage certificate and another newspaper clipping. Bobbi’s jaw dropped. She recognized the woman in the picture. That was -

“Margaret’s nickname was Peggy,” Hunter informed her, albeit unnecessarily. “The woman who founded the Mockingbird is Jemma’s daughter.”

“But why would she…?”

“Sometimes people don’t want to hold onto the past.” Bobbi reached out to take his hand, and Hunter accepted it. “Sometimes it hurts too much to think of everything that could have been, so we lock it away and try to forget… until someone comes along and makes us remember.”

“So Jemma’s daughter hides away the love letters between her mother and the man her mother used to love,” Bobbi finished. “That’s even sadder.”

“It’s not a sad story, Bob.” Hunter brushed a quick kiss over her temple. “Jemma fell in love again, even after losing the person she thought she could never live without. I’d say that’s pretty brilliant.”

“Don’t you think she was scared?” Bobbi asked, lifting her head up from Hunter’s shoulder.

“Isn’t loving always a little scary?” Hunter leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Bobbi’s. “I know what you’re thinking, Bob. And yes, losing you like I lost Izzy terrifies me, and I am so, _so _glad you weren’t in Orchid Lane yesterday. The idea you might run away still terrifies me. But no amount of fear could ever keep me from wanting you.” He pressed his lips against hers, soft but sure. “I love you, Bobbi Morse.”

The breath rushed out of her in one huge gust, and if Bobbi hadn’t already been sitting she surely would’ve fallen to the ground. 

Hunter loved her.

There was some part of her that had always known. How he talked to her, how he looked at her, how he held her - none of those things would be possible if he hadn’t cared. But there was a line between caring and love and Bobbi hadn’t dared believe Hunter had crossed that line. It seemed too much to hope for, even when she considered spending forever with him. Even just being cared for was new. Love was unfathomable.

It was unfathomable, but she had it.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” Hunter swept his thumb over her cheek, wiping tears Bobbi hadn’t realized she was crying. “You don’t have to say it back.”

But she did. She had to say it back because she loved Lance Hunter and she couldn’t have him believing she didn’t.

“No one ever thought I’d stay, either,” Bobbi sniffled. “But I want to. I don’t want you to be afraid I’m going to run away.” She wanted to because of Daisy and Lincoln and Mack and Elena but most of all because of Hunter - the person who had quite literally helped her turn a house into a home. “I love you too, Lance Hunter.”

Their kiss tasted like tears but it also tasted like hope, like triumph, like forever. Bobbi doubted she’d ever be able to kiss Hunter again without tasting forever on his tongue, without being certain he was hers and hers alone, for the rest of their lives. 

“I was thinking,” Hunter said after they had broken apart, running his hands through Bobbi’s hair, “maybe we could keep up the letter writing tradition. Without hiding them away.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, you’ll probably yell at me for being too sappy if I say half the stuff I think about you, so…” Hunter grinned, but underneath it there was something… fragile. Still scared.

“I’m not mad at you for loving me, Hunter.” She nudged their noses together. “I’m horrible with feelings, as you know.” She paused, then sighed. “And you make me feel a lot.”

“Too much?” he suggested quietly.

“No.” Bobbi brushed their lips together, the barest hint of a kiss. “Just enough, I think.”

They hovered there for a few seconds before Bobbi drew back. “So. We’re writing?”

“Right.” Hunter gathered all the files he had gotten from the town archives and padded off again. Bobbi was awake enough now to admire him as he left. His shoulders were a sight to behold, as were the muscles of his back… and his ass, and his legs, and just about every other part of him. It would have been unfair for someone to be as perfect as Hunter was, inside and out, if he hadn’t been hers.

He returned in short order, carrying another sheaf of paper, this one blank. The paper was thicker than regular letter paper, and discolored in a mottled way that suggested old age.

“For the pizzazz of it all,” Hunter explained as he handed her the top sheet and a fancy-looking pen.

“Heaven forbid anyone ever think you lack drama,” Bobbi responded, shoving herself up against the headboard so she’d have the best position possible for letter-writing. 

“You have to promise you won’t peek while I’m writing.” Hunter settled with his shoulder against hers, and it really would be easy to look at what he was writing if she wanted to. 

“Of the two of us, I don’t think I’m the one who’s more likely to peek.”

“That’s rude, Bob!”

“It’s the truth. Being mad about it won’t change it.” Hunter huffed, but when Bobbi turned her head to steal a quick kiss, he leaned into her easily. Bobbi kissed him again, and another time, savoring the calmness of the kisses. They had a long time, and they knew it.

“You’re stalling,” Hunter muttered against her mouth.

“You’re helping.” 

“Am not.” Hunter pulled back. 

“Not anymore,” Bobbi pouted.

“_Write_, Bob.” With that Hunter uncapped his pen and Bobbi’s. She made good on her promise not to peek, focusing instead on the paper in front of her.

She took a deep breath, then put the tip of her pen against the paper.

_Dear Lance…_

Those were the words that started a love letter that would last her the rest of her life.


End file.
